


Always Find Their Kind

by someoneplsloverobbierotten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, LazyTown
Genre: (i think), Anxiety, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Robbie Rotten, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Glanni is a good bro, Hogwarts AU, Implied OCD, Kittens, M/M, Neurodivergent Robbie Rotten, Neurodiversity, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Snakes, but he's still Glanni
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 70,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someoneplsloverobbierotten/pseuds/someoneplsloverobbierotten
Summary: Hogwarts is nothing like Robbie thought it would be. He hates it, and despite what Glanni says, he really doesn't think it's going to get better.





	1. 1st Year, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this! Sorry for any messed up tenses, I tried :/
> 
> (also the teachers are all deliberately vague bc i felt weird having the actual HP teachers but there weren't enough adults in LazyTown to take more than McGonagall and Dumbledore's place)
> 
> \----
> 
> sidenote about some of the tags.  
> enemies to lovers; referring to glannithro who are older - though not yet of age. they wont do anything actually 'lover-y' til they're are.  
> enemies to friends to lovers; referring to sportarobbie - this story is likely only going to go to their fourth year, so there will be no actual 'lover-y' stuff, just sweet lil kisses later on bc they will still be babies.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie's first couple of days at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ithro appears in the next chapter dw, as does Sport - properly, anyway.
> 
> \----
> 
> WARNING - This chapter contains a description of a Panic Attack

Hogwarts is twenty times as amazing as Glanni said it would be.

At first, Robbie hadn’t understood why the first years had to get to the castle in stupid boats when all the others got to go in nice warm, dry carriages, but as he’s gliding across the lake and watching the castle come into view, Robbie understands completely.

Carriages would _not_ get a view like this.

Hogwarts is huge, with towers and turrets spiralling up into the clear night sky and the light from thousands of windows glittering in the darkness. It looks like Glanni’s gone at it with some glue and a bag of glitter, and the thought makes him snort quietly.

As terrified as he is, sat with two other students in a wobbly little canoe-thing, he wonders if he could ask to take the boats again next year. Probably not, but it can’t hurt to think about.

He spends the entire boat ride staring at the castle, even when the other kids in his boat start trying to make conversation with each other halfway through it. He ignores them, and they give him some funny looks as he gazes across the lake and sighs to himself, his nose twitching occasionally. He can make friends later, if he wants. He’s probably only get to see this once, and unlike these two other fools, he’s going to _savour_ it.

 

* * *

 

  

When they reach the steps to the castle his excitement has given way to nervousness. Not completely, but enough to put him slightly on edge. He knows how this is going to go; Glanni told him. He’s seen this three times now and its always the same: first, the teacher will collect them and take them to a little room to the side of the main hall. Then, they get brought into the main hall, where all the other students will be. Robbie is _immediately_ going to look for Glanni – who will be sitting near the middle of his table, so that Robbie can find him easier – in hopes that the familiar face will help him settle down a bit. He does not like crowds. They’re then going to be led to a stool at the front with a hat on it, which is the Sorting Hat.

The Sorting Hat also sings a song apparently, which Robbie is very much looking forward to. He and Glanni love to sing, and he knows Glanni sings the Hat song to himself sometimes – though he’s never done more than hum it when he’s around Robbie.

The kids have to wait until their name is called out, which is when they go and sit on the stool. The hat will be put on them by the teacher and it will call out what house they’re in. Then, they stand up when the Sorting Hat is taken off their head and move over to the correct table to sit down. You can tell what table is yours because of the colour of the banners above it and because it’s probably going to be the one cheering the loudest. Once everyone’s been sorted and is sat down, the Headmaster gives a short speech and then everyone eats. Glanni’s told him a lot of things about the feast – particularly concerning the puddings – and Robbie can’t _wait_.

Robbie’s repeated what’s going to happen a hundred times in his head, taking up a good chunk of the train journey up here to be able to prepare for what’s going to happen. He’s nervous enough as it is, he really doesn’t want to be surprised.

The rest of the train journey had been spent eating chocolate frogs and wondering what house he’d be sorted into.

He’s pretty excited to find out to be honest. The whole situation of being somewhere new and surrounded by so many people is awful, and it’s about to get so much worse when he walks into what he knows is going to be a busy hall of people and get put on the spot, but the actual result of the Sorting, even if the process is terrifying, is something he’s looking forward to.

Glanni had been sorted into Slytherin, which the both of them could appreciate. Glanni said it was for people who were cunning and sly and sneaky, and Robbie liked that. It meant you could pull good pranks and were creative, and you had to be very smart to be good at sneaky stuff.

He wouldn’t’ve minded Slytherin. Or any of the others, to be honest. If he was put into Gryffindor he’d be brave, apparently.

On one hand, Robbie didn’t think that he’d be put into Gryffindor because he wasn’t brave, but on the other hand, if he was put into Gryffindor that’d mean he would be brave at some point, surely? The Sorting Hat never lied. Glanni said the Slytherins hated the Gryffindors and that that hate went both ways, but Robbie didn’t think that was true. Even though Glanni’s ‘greatest enemy’ was in Gryffindor, that didn’t mean the _houses_ hated each other, right? After all, if he was sorted into Gryffindor then he wouldn’t automatically hate his brother. And Glanni wouldn’t start to hate him either, just because he wore a green tie and Robbie wore a red one. (Though the colour of Glanni’s tie didn’t actually matter too much since he’d been trying to charm it pink since second year. He had yet to succeed.)

Hufflepuff was for those who were loyal, Robbie didn’t have many friends at home so he wasn’t sure how loyal he was. If he met someone he liked, he supposed he could be pretty loyal to them – or at least he hoped he could. But did he have to be loyal now, or did the hat go off potential? Robbie wasn’t sure. Still, Hufflepuff sounded nice. Glanni said that your house was like your family, and it would be nice to have a big loyal family – even if everything was in yellow. (Robbie liked yellow, but yellow everything? It was a shame they didn’t have a purple house, or an orange one.)

Ravenclaw would also be really good, and was one of the two – the other being Slytherin – that Robbie thought he might actually end up in. Even at eleven he was very smart indeed.

That wasn’t a brag! Or at least, not an untrue one; he really was smart! A lot smarter than Glanni anyway. Well, no actually. Glanni was very smart too, but in a different way. Robbie was really good with machines, he could build anything out of anything. His room at home was covered with half-built robots and little inventions he made. His mother said he was ‘book smart’ and Ravenclaw’s liked books; Robbie liked books too, so he guessed that was a point in his favour.

He’d also been very ‘liberal’ with his accidental magic. Robbie didn’t know exactly what ‘liberal’ meant but he could make a good guess. Most kids his age or younger, if they used accidental magic, would have large bursts of it; like making a glass or a window explode or knocking down a shelf or something. Glanni had once blown an entire floor full of windows out during a panic attack when he was eight, and Robbie had made all the robots in his room light up and work when he’d had one at seven. That was the difference. With Robbie, it was like he was just using actual magic but he couldn’t control when it happened. If he was making something he’d just be putting magic in it without thinking, he didn’t know how he did it. His parents said that would mean he was going to be a very powerful wizard.

He doesn’t know what house the Hat would think liberal use of accidental magic fit into.

It doesn’t matter. Robbie is going to be happy to be sorted into any of them.

 _‘Though it **would** be nice to be in the same house as my brother,_ ” Robbie thinks as the teacher arrives to lead them into the Hall.

 

* * *

 

  

They’re ushered through an oak door into a room _filled_ with people.

Robbie wants to throw up. There are so many smells, and sights, and the _noise_ – god, the noise. The room is spinning. He wants to put his hands to his ears and block out the noise but no one else is doing that so he doesn’t either. Luckily, the noise stops when the group starts to walk through the hall, the students falling silent as they watch the group of newbies walk across the hall.

Robbie, trailing at the back, instantly looks towards the table with the green banners above it, scanning the middle area until he finds Glanni. His whole body practically slumps with relief when he spots him and he wants nothing more than to slink away from the group and sit next to his brother.

Instead, he forces himself to keep walking, teeth clenched together so hard it hurts. In the sleeve of his robes – which he’s had made to be longer for this reason – his left hand is twitching wildly, clenching and unclenching and flicking out. The long, wide sleeves make it so his hands are completely hidden from the view of others.

He feels Glanni’s gaze on him, and looks back to see his brother looking seriously at him. Glanni nods, as if to say, _‘you’re fine,’_ or _‘go on,’_ and then he grins, settling back slightly into his seat.

He’s wearing the good eyeliner, Robbie notices, a tiny line of thin black glitter just below a bright stipe of pink. How sweet.

He turns back to the others as they arrive at the front of the hall and the group stops, looking at the little wooden stool set in front of the steps to the teacher’s table. It has a very old-looking pointed brown hat on it. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what would happen next, and a few of the students jump when the Hat finally opens a fold of its cloth and begins to sing.

The song is amazing. It’s a bit more comedy then Robbie likes but the rhythm is catchy and the rhymes are good. He loves it. He has a feeling that Glanni is mouthing the words, but doesn’t dare look back to check.

After it’s over the teacher pulls out a long piece of parchment and starts reading off names, just like Glanni had told him she would.

Robbie doesn’t have a very long wait. His name is somewhere near the beginning anyway, but most of the kids this year seem to have last names that fall on the later end of the alphabet, seeing as only about six kids get called up before him.

“Glæpur, Robin,” The teacher calls… surprisingly well, actually.

At least with Glanni having been in the school the teachers seem to have learnt how to pronounce their last name, Robbie muses as he steps up to the stool. His hand is going haywire within his sleeve, and when he sits he automatically clasps both together in his lap, fiddling with his own fingers.

The hat is placed upon his head with relative care and Robbie likes it. The hat is very old leather and is heavy, but soft, with a pleasing, worn texture. It’s also blocking out a lot of the faces staring at him right now, since it’s so large it covers most of his eyes. He can’t see Glanni anymore, but he can’t see a lot of people so he guesses it’s okay. The half-darkness is soothing.

 _“Glad you like me,”_ says a voice in his ear. Instead of jumping however, Robbie relaxes. Glanni had told him that the hat would speak, and he’s been tensing, waiting.

 _“I do,”_ Robbie thinks, and the hat chuckles.

_“Well well, my boy, aren’t you a difficult one?”_

Robbie’s insides turn to ice. _“Difficult?”_

He feels his hands start fiddling twice as hard and bites back an anxious noise.

 _“Nothing to worry about my boy, I simply mean that you have very strong qualities for more than one house that’s all.”_ The hat tells him, and Robbie relaxes a bit. _“Very sneaky, Slytherin would flourish with you. Your mind is clearly your strongest weapon, excellent for a Slytherin, but also the mark of a fantastic Ravenclaw. Yes, yes,_ ” the hat rambles, _“a very good Ravenclaw indeed. Smart, creative, with Slytherin wiles to help quench your thirst for knowledge in any way… yes, definitely RAVENCLAW!”_

He’d known the hat would shout the result but Robbie still jumps anyway, startled by the loud noise. No one seems to notice though. The table next to Slytherins, the one with the blue banner, starts clapping and cheering loudly, some of the students whispering and nudging each other. Some of them look over to Glanni at the Slytherin table and grin. Clearly his brother has a reputation.

The thought makes Robbie a little uneasy but it’s nice to have a warm welcome.

It’s a little too warm, actually; students he doesn’t know patting him on the back and congratulating him as he goes to join them at their table. He gives them an awkward smile, hands flat against the sides of his legs as he sits down near the middle of the table. Behind him, Glanni is sat at the Slytherin table. He’s barely a meter away but Robbie wishes he was closer, then at least he’d have the actual Glanni to introduce him instead of just his reputation. Still, it’s great to be in Ravenclaw! It’d be nice to be with his brother but this just proves that he really is smart! Not that he’d ever had doubts. Not many anyway, or at least not often. Sometimes. But now it’s a fact for everyone to know. No one can doubt him, and with that reassurance, Robbie settles down to watch the rest of the Sorting.

To be honest, he doesn’t pay much attention to it. Not out of rudeness, not completely anyway, there was just too much else to concentrate on – like the ceiling of the hall. Glanni had told him about how the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the sky outside but Robbie never imagined it would be as beautiful as this. The enchantment has turned the ceiling a gorgeous purpley-blue that’s so dark it’s almost black, billions of tiny stars twinkling in the darkness and wisps of violet clouds snaking through the air. It’s like there’s no ceiling at all.

He loves it, and spends most of the Sorting turned towards the Hat but with his eyes to the sky, only straying back down to the actual proceedings when one boy, a blond shorty, practically _cartwheels_ to the darn stool, sending the school into titters and giggles and bring Robbie’s attention down to earth.

He sits on the school with his little leg bouncing, unbelievably large grin plastered on his face and blond ringlets spilling out from under the oversized hat. Robbie immediately hates him. He doesn’t seem nervous at all, not even faltering when his Sorting takes almost a solid minuet, simply joining his Hufflepuff brethren, smiling.

Robbie watches him taking his seat but after that he ignores him, turning his attention back to the stars. Eventually the Sorting is over and the Headmaster stands to speak, for which Robbie does bring his eyes back down and listens carefully. There’s a little warning about not going into the Forbidden Forrest – which, duh; its _Forbidden_ – and a mention of when quidditch trials begin (which Robbie has no interest in _whatsoever_ , thank you; he’s keeping his feet firmly on the ground at all times,) but other than that it’s just a relatively polite welcome. Robbie keeps himself entertained by rubbing one of his hands lightly over the fabric of his trouser leg.

Once the headmaster is done he gestures to the tables and wishes them an enjoyable feast. Robbie looks down to find that all of the previously empty tables are now filled with food and his jaw drops. He’s never seen anything like this before. His family has never exactly been short on food, but this looks like something only kings and queens should be eating. There are plates and bowls of anything he can imagine, but he stops himself from eating straight away to consider things carefully. He doesn’t want to make the mistake of eating too much food and then being too full for any pudding, which according to Glanni is the main event. Glanni’s a trickster by nature but even _he_ wouldn’t lie about sweets; not to Robbie at least.

To avoid royally messing up on the pudding situation he only takes a small amount of the main course; some chicken and bacon and a sausage – and even though he despises vegetables he also takes a scoop of mash because it’s _swamped_ in butter, and some gravy. The students sat around him give him some odd looks at his barely filled plate but he ignores them, digging in. It’s delicious.

They all end up regretting those looks because when the main course disappears and the puddings appear – which prompts Robbie to turn around and look at Glanni to share a quick mental conversation of _‘oh my god,’_ and _‘I **know** , right?_’ before turning back – and Robbie is able to pile his plate high with cake and ice-cream whilst the others are too full from before.

Even with the small main, Robbie eats so much he thinks he’s genuinely freaking the other students out. Good. The Glæpur reputation for sugar consumption is accurate and terrifying, and this is one thing Robbie doesn’t mind being connected with Glanni on, which from the fearful way some of the kids look from him over to the similar spectacle he knows is going on at the Slytherin table, is already happening.

They look even more scared when he finishes what equates to almost an entire sundae himself with no ill-effects. It’s great.

When everyone’s finished eating the food vanishes magically, leaving the table as empty as before. He’s sad to see it all go, even though he’s feeling happily full. The headmaster rises once more to tell them when lessons will commence and then sends everyone off to their dormitories. Each house is led by the head of house and their accompanying prefects.

Glanni breaks away from his house immediately, springing over to high-five his brother. “Always knew my little brother was a smarty-pants,” he says. His smile is sharp and wicked, but Robbie can see the genuine humour in it.

He snorts again, twitching his nose.

Glanni ruffles his brother’s hair – slightly longer than his own. “Bit of a blow that we don’t get your mischief as well, but to be honest I don’t think Slytherin would’ve been able to cope with both of us; the castle’s going to have trouble staying standing with two Glæpurs as it is,” Glanni teases, “never mind two _Slytherin_ Glæpurs.”

The rest of the students are nearly out the halls by now and Robbie starts to fidget, he doesn’t want to leave his brother, but he also doesn’t want to fall behind and get lost.

“Still, a Slytherin Glæpur and a Ravenclaw Glæpur teaming up? Hogwarts won’t know what hit it.” Glanni winks and heads off to join the rest of his house, leaving Robbie to do the same.

Assured by Glanni’s very specific brand of optimism, Robbie almost has a skip to his step as he falls in behind the other Ravenclaws.

  

* * *

 

 

Glanni’s told him a lot about the Slytherin dorms and common room, but he can’t tell him much about the Ravenclaw ones – aside from what he’s heard from others. Most of the common rooms have the basics in common though, like sofas and some tables, and a fireplace. Actually, that’s about it. The rest is all based on style, apparently, or house traits.

The common rooms all have different ways of being entered, too. The Slytherin common room is hidden behind a stone wall, which is password protected. All the entrances are protected by something, according to Glanni, usually a password. During the feast, he’d heard that the Ravenclaw Common Room is protected by a knocker that you have to tell the password to. It’s apparently shaped like an eagle, which Robbie thinks is pretty cool. He’s not sure why the eagle is the house animal for Ravenclaw when its, you know, _Raven_ -claw, but eagles are good birds so he doesn’t put too much thought into it. It would be logical though.

He follows the rest of his house through the castle thinking about what the password’s going to be when they come across the first staircase. He and the other students pile on when suddenly the ground shifts under his feet and he’s _moving_ – everyone’s moving. Wildly, he looks around and finds that the _staircase_ is moving; pivoting around from one side of the castle to another, swinging across the chasm between the different floors.

He’s going to be sick. Oh God, he’s going to be sick.

Before he can however, the stairs come to a stop. The end of the stairs now joins onto a different floor and the majority of the newbies all very excited to see such a magnificently general display of magic. Robbie can’t feel his legs.

He drags himself off the staircase only to find that he’s being led onto another set of stairs, even higher up. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of ground below. He can’t do this. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, _he can’t_.

One of the Prefects must notice that they’ve lost a bird and comes back to gently take his elbow to lead him onto the stairs. Robbie yanks his arm away. He doesn’t want to be touched, or held, or pulled right now. It’s too late though. He’s already on the staircase, stomach roiling dangerously as the stairs swing. He screws his eyes shut again and grips on to the banister. The second it stops he dashes off the stairs on wobbly legs, ignoring the looks he’s getting off the other Ravenclaws.

“It’s alright, kid,” one of the Prefects says. “There’s nothing to worry about – and hey, you’re in Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor!” the Prefect laughs encouragingly.

Robbie doesn’t think it’s very funny. He also doesn’t think it’s very encouraging, but at least he’s not being outright mean about it.

Still, Robbie is very embarrassed, and he scowls the rest of the way there, feeling incredibly nauseous. He’s grateful when they get to last set of stairs, because he’s assured that these ones don’t move; the Ravenclaw dorms are in a tower, so the spiral staircase has nowhere to go. Still, it’s very high up. At least the staircase that goes up the tower is one of those ones with no banister, just stairs all the way across so he can’t see the floor below. The only way he can really tell how high up he is is if he looks out of one of the tiny windows, and he won’t be doing that anytime soon.

When they reach the top, they’re confronted by a huge oak door with a solid bronze knocker smack bang in the centre – which is indeed shaped like an eagle. The head of house knocks three times on the knocker and the eagle suddenly opens its bronze beak and starts speaking. Now _that_ is pretty cool.

What the eagle says though, is not.

“What gets wetter the more it dries?” the knocker asks, and the Head of House lets out a short laugh before stating “a towel.”

The knocker congratulates her and the door swings open, the awed Ravenclaws all piling through the door after her.

It’s not a password.

It’s a _riddle_.

Robbie’s head swims. He’s _awful_ at riddles. They’re straightforward but they’re just not at the same time and he just can’t get his mind around them. He can hear the other kids whispering about how that was a pretty easy one. It really wasn’t.

“Is it the same riddle every time?” one of them asks. An older student overhears and laughs, saying that the riddle changes every time, so there’s no need to worry.

Robbie feels sick again.

He’s going to get locked out of his own dorm.

The head of house starts saying a few words but Robbie can’t hear any of them, busy trying to push down the panic attack he knows is coming. He wants Glanni. He wants Glanni and he wants to go home.

They’re all dismissed with the instructions to go straight to bed, since they all have a big day tomorrow and Robbie rushes up to his assigned dorm the second it’s given to him. It’s with two other boys but he ignores them, going straight past them and getting onto his four-poster bed and whipping the curtains shut around him.

After an hour he manages to calm down. It’s so much harder to do so without Glanni there, and even more difficult when he’s trying to give no signal whatsoever that he’s breaking down. There were sound of the other boys chatting beforehand, but everything’s silent now. They haven’t tried to speak to him, which he’d both expected and hadn’t.

He sits in the dark, terrified. He doesn’t like the dark. He really, really doesn’t. He hadn’t noticed how dark it was getting in his panic, and with the curtains closed it’s even darker. He feels like he’s being swallowed. His breathing quickens again as he realises the situation he’s in and makes a grab for the curtains, roommates be damned. He has to get out.

He rips the curtains back and gasps for air. The room is dark, but there’s enough light seeping in from under the curtains on the windows that he can make out the two other beds in the room. It’s not quite enough for him to calm down completely but it soothes him just a little.

He can see the outline of a door, not the one they came in through. A closet, perhaps? Or a bathroom? He hopes the latter. He doesn’t know, he hasn’t looked at anything, the past hour and a half is a complete blur. He doesn’t even know what the room looks like. He doesn’t even know what the _common room_ looks like, having been in too much of a panic when he was down there to take in any kind of detail.

It makes him uneasy not knowing anything about his surroundings, and silently he gets off the bed and pads over to the door. It _is_ a bathroom.

 _‘Thank you, thank you.’_ Robbie praises the castle in his head, despite everything up until now terrifying him. Candles flicker on as he shuts the door, illuminating the room. It’s got three sinks, a bath and a shower. Each sink has a little cupboard underneath it and a separate mirror. All of the walls are the same stone of the castle, but the wall with nothing on it (aside from some towel racks) has been painted blue, and there are some pretty glass stones in various shades of blue around the mirrors and studded in the shower wall. It’s nice, and Robbie instantly feels a bit better. He notices that all the metal things, like the taps and towel rails and the claws on the claw-footed tubs, are bronze. Even the toilet handle is bronze.

He splashes some water on his face and feels a bit cooler. He still doesn’t want to go back to bed though. It’s too dark. He briefly wonders if he could take a candle with him but quickly dismisses the thought. The light would wake everyone else up and he doesn’t want to deal with them discovering that he needs a light to sleep. He’s eleven, he should be over it by now. He can’t keep it in the bed either since it’s a fire hazard.

His only comfort is to keep the curtains open and look at the teeny tiny bit of moonlight coming in from the window so that’s what he does, crawling back into bed as quietly as possible. He’s still in his uniform from yesterday, though he’d taken off his tie and shoes in the bathroom. He hadn’t even thought about unpacking in his haste to get into the bed before, and he daren’t do it now in case he wakes someone up. His pyjamas will have to wait until tomorrow. It’s a little uncomfortable but at least he’s warm.

He stares at the light for what seems like ages, trying to let it soothe him to sleep. It’s just not enough though. Instead, he lays awake in the dark and thinks about how he’s going to be locked out of his own dorm, or worse, laughed at because he can’t get any of the riddles. Surely someone else is going to have this sort of trouble, right? Right?

He doesn’t feel like they will, stomach cramping with worry. No one else seemed to be put off by the riddles, heck they were all talking about how cool it was, just like they had with the stairs.

Oh god, the stairs.

Robbie squeezes his eyes shut and breathes deeply, already feeling sick again. He can’t do that every day for seven years, he can’t. There’s got to be another way. There’s _got_ to.

Plans swirl around in his head but they’re stupid and easily scattered due to tiredness and fear. He hasn’t seen enough of the castle to know how to get around it yet, especially without those stairs. He tries his best, and thoughts of stairs and lights and riddles swirl together for hours and hours, until he notices that the light coming through the windows is decidedly brighter.

It’s morning.

He hasn’t slept at all.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie drags himself out of bed and down to the common room. The clock on the wall says its barely six in the morning, but he doesn’t care. He’ll only feel worse if he sleeps now, and he probably won’t wake up. He can’t afford to miss anything, the most important stuff in always on the first day.

At least now that he’s in that numb state that follows after a panic attack and no sleep, he can actually take the time to look around the common room, since he hadn’t last night.

It’s circular in shape, like you would expect form a tower, but it’s a lot bigger than he expected. The walls are painted a nice, clean off-white, with light and dark blue accents, and there are loads of bronze and sapphire blue drapes hung from the walls and the sconces. The staircase up to the dorms is opposite the door they came into. It’s hidden in an alcove that’s full of books that Robbie can’t wait to read, and there’s a beautiful white marble statue of a pretty lady next to it.

There are bookshelves on most of the walls, which also house a variety of interesting looking knick-knacks, and a telescope set up next to one of the biggest windows. That window also has star-charts and tapestries with constellations hung up next to it.

One half of the room – to Robbie’s right, as he’s stood in the alcove – has eight large, round dark oak tables clustered together loosely, with four or six matching chairs around them. They all have stacks of parchment at the centre and cups full of quills, and multiple wells of ink.

The other half of the room, on Robbie’s right, has a dozen or more squashy blue couches and chairs, as well as two chaise lounges. They’re all set around an ornate oak fireplace, which has a great big mirror above it, and two bronze eagle statues at either end of the mantelpiece.

It’s _beautiful_.

Perhaps the most beautiful thing about it though is the celling. Its domed, and has been painted a beautiful midnight blue. All the constellations you can think of have been painted across it and the rest of the expanse of ‘sky’ is covered with stars. It takes Robbie’s breath away.

He takes a seat in one of the cushy blue chairs, the one nearest the fire. The embers flare to life as he sits down, which is nice. He looks up at the stars on the celling, trying to identify as many constellations as possible. He likes stars and space very much. One of the lessons he’s looking forward to most is Astrology, especially since he’s more of a night owl anyway. He’ll have more concentration than most at such a late hour. He spends a good while looking at the stars, long enough to notice that they’re _moving_. Orion was definitely further over to his left before. Now it’s nearly on top of him.

That’s _incredible_! Do they move in real-time? Like, with the stars outside, mirroring their positions so he can see where everything is even in the day? It’s a very interesting thought, and he resolves to find out. Maybe he’ll ask one of the Prefect’s at breakfast, they’ll know.

He needs to get changed before breakfast though, maybe have a shower. He has at least an hour before any of that needs to start. He also neds to unpack, but he can do that tonight – properly anyway. At the moment, everyone else is still asleep and he only needs something to get changed into. A shower might help him feel better, too, less… unreal. He kind of wants one now, but he doesn’t want to wake everyone up – it’s still very early.

Although, they didn’t hear him when he went to the bathroom last night and if he’s quiet he doubts they’ll hear him this time. He spends some time staring into the fire, gathering his strength. Eventually he sighs and moves, peeling himself out the chair. He goes back up to the dorm to grab his toothbrush and a change of clothes, then heads to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s not the first one to arrive in the great hall, but it’s a close thing. There are three other people in there already, a Gryffindor and two Hufflepuffs, including the cartwheeler from yesterday. The Gryffindor sat over with the Hufflepuffs on their table, despite being older than them, and they’re all chatting away like a merry little group.

Ugh. Robbie plonks himself down at the end of the Ravenclaw table, well away from them, and puts his head on his folded arms. His shower had had the opposite effect that he’d thought it would. He’d felt great for about five minutes, and then his body had apparently caught up with the fact that he hadn’t had any sleep at all and now was trying to _do_ things. He feels horrible right now, eyes grainy and his head starting to ache.

There’s no food on the table yet and he dreads one of his housemates trying to talk to him. As much as he wants to make friends, in this mood it just won’t happen and he knows it. He refuses to talk to anyone at this point in time, even if it’s absolutely necessary – or it’s Glanni, and even then he might to talk to Glanni.

The rest of the students trickle in over time and eventually the food appears. Robbie eats a meagre amount of cereal, nearly falling asleep in his bowl. He doesn’t _look_ great either, even though he’s actually fresh as a daisy due to his shower all the water in the world couldn’t wash away the awful dark circles under his eyes. He’s sending out ‘don’t talk to me’ signals just by existing, mouth twisted into a gruesome scowl. Everyone avoids him, and he’s glad for it.

He sees Glanni give him a brief look of pity when he arrives but had known to stay well away, and hadn’t gotten bolshie when Robbie just ignored him.

Towards the end of breakfast, they’re all given their timetables. He has Transfiguration first. He stands from the bench as soon as he makes this observation, shovelling some sweet pastries into his mouth. The sugar doesn’t make him feel any better, but it tastes nice. He slinks back up to his room to pick up the relevant books and shoves them in his bag, soothed by the fact even though his first night at Hogwarts had been horrendous, his lessons should be fine, at least.

 

* * *

 

 

Since he was one of the first ones to leave the great hall, he has plenty of time to get the books and get down to the classroom. He’ll arrive early, probably way too early, but he’ll just look like an over-eager Ravenclaw so he supposes it’s not too bad. Better than being late at least.

He leaves the train of thought there and starts wandering to the assigned classroom. At least he’ll have extra time to figure things out if he gets lost, and with those stairs having minds of their own its likely that–

Oh.

Oh _no_.

He’d forgotten about the stairs. Not completely; they’ve been hovering in the back of his mind and clawing up his brain since he discovered them yesterday evening, but enough that he’d not taken them into account when he’d thought about getting to class just then.

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped walking.

How’s he going to be able to get passed them?

 _Is_ there a way?

There isn’t. Not completely. He manages to avoid almost all of them, but has to face facts and get on one to be able to get to class and his stomach roils the entire time, white-knuckled grip on the railing and his eyes squeezed shut so tight that the stupid thing nearly sets off again to a different floor because he doesn’t realise its stopped straight away.

And because of the time it took to weave around everywhere and find different ways around and down – without knowing where the heck anything is – he actually arrives almost late to his first class, despite having all that extra time.

He parks himself at a desk at the back so he be largely invisible to others and pulls his Defence Against the Dark Arts stuff out of his bag. He’s already read up on stuff Glanni told him about so he knows that nothing he’s going to encounter today is going to be too hard – they probably won’t even be trying any actual spells. Even though that relaxes him somewhat, the debacle with the stairs and his lack of sleep still has him in a foul mood.

Everyone can _tell_ he’s in a sour mood too, so they leave him be throughout the lesson. All the classes are taught two houses at a time; at the moment, he and the other Ravenclaws are sharing the class with the Slytherins. Most of his classes, according to his timetable, will be shared with the Hufflepuffs though. That’s fine. That means his lessons should be nice and quiet, and they’ll all get some work done. He doesn’t want to buy into the whole house-stereotypes thing but that’s what he’s heard from others so far so he’s going to take the general consensus on board and actually hope for some decent class behaviour. He’s a mischief maker by nature, yes, but he really does want to learn.

His first class goes well enough, as do the rest. He was right about the quiet Hufflepuff classes – mostly, they’re all hardworking but they all discuss more than Robbie was expecting, though that’s not a bad thing. One kid, the overenthusiastic sorter from yesterday, cannot seem to sit still for more than half an hour and his bouncing leg is driving Robbie insane, since even though its silent he can see it out the corner of his eye, so he makes sure to sit at the back where he can’t see him in the next lesson he shares with the Hufflepuffs.

The wide birth he’s been given by his peers continues on throughout the rest of his lessons since his bad mood does too. He’s still exhausted – the good class atmosphere is welcome but it doesn’t miraculously make his bad mood disappear. No one interacts with him all day except for the teachers. That’s fine with him. He’d rather not end up insulting anybody because he’s so tired he won’t stop to think before snapping. Its better this way, and he really doesn’t mind.

All in all, the actual classes themselves are pretty good, even though Robbie himself feels kind of terrible. The work is easy but he’s still learning. He’s a little bored but, that’s because they’re not really doing anything at the moment – just listening to the professors talk and tell the class what to expect. He spends the whole day just taking notes, really. He answers a couple of questions though, ones that a couple of other hands go up for, _never_ ones that no-one knows the answer to, even if _he_ knows. He’s not an idiot. He earns a point for Ravenclaw in Potions, and two in Charms, which makes him feel pretty good.

Not good enough that his mood doesn’t immediately blacken any time he encounters a set of stairs in between classes though.

 

* * *

 

 

After his last class of the day he packs away his things and goes straight up to the common room, following a little ways behind a group of his housemates. When they all reach the knocker he waits for one of them to give the answer to the riddle and slips inside behind them, then makes a bee-line for the dorms, dumps his bag at the foot of his bed and collapses onto the mattress, hauling the curtains shut behind him. He doesn’t unpack, or sort out his things for tomorrow, he doesn’t even take off his _shoes_. The only thing he has the presence of mind to do is pull the sheet over himself before his eyes slip shut and he falls into a deep, deep sleep.


	2. 1st Year, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remainder of Robbie's First Year. It's not a pleasant ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we all ready for some nice, thoroughly depressing content? Good.

Robbie sleeps for fourteen straight hours and _wow_ , doesn’t that turn out to be a mistake; he wakes up bursting for the loo and _starving_. As soon as he’s dressed he hurried down to the Great Hall and waits for the food to appear, ignoring how so much sleep has made him feel awfully uncomfortable and muggy. When the food appears on the platters, he inhales his breakfast, and only when he’s full enough that he might be sick does he stop.

He feels decidedly groggy for the rest of the day and is once again avoided by the students.

His large breakfast means he only really picks at lunch, so he decides to spend the rest of his free time before his next class – finally – unpacking his trunk.

He gets halfway through his stuff when he finds a small glass jar, a bit bigger than his fist, carefully packed into the bottom. He doesn’t know how it’s gotten there and _he_ certainly hadn’t packed it, so he automatically assumes that Glanni had snuck it in there when he wasn’t looking. Sure enough, when he pulls the jar out of the trunk – as well as a pre-knotted length of rope and a hook – there was a rolled-up piece of parchment in there singed by his brother.

_“Hey kid, I packed this for you. Just put the hook through the pointy bit of your canopy so it hangs above the middle of your bed. Take the jar out of the rope and bring it to me and I’ll do something real special with it.”_

He’d also drawn a little winky face, which was cute.

He immediately abandons everything else in the trunk and climbs on his mattress to slide the hook through the peak of the sapphire blue canopy that hung over his bed. The ‘ceiling’ of the four-poster was very high, at least eight feet tall, and when he places the hook correctly and lets the rope dangle, the jar hangs directly over the centre of his bed in its little rope harness, high enough that if he stands, he won’t hit his head. He removes the jar from its harness and wraps it carefully in a jumper and stuck it in his bag, then hurries down to the courtyard to find Glanni, seeing as they still have about half an hour of lunch and he wants to know what the heck this is.

Sure enough, Robbie finds Glanni strolling around outside in the courtyard. When he gives his brother the jar, Glanni practically falls over with his dramatic sigh.

“ _Finally_ ,” his brother exclaims, “I was expecting you to bring this to me your first night here – or the next day at least.”

Robbie just shrugs, ducking his head.

Glanni takes his hand and drags him over to a bench, setting the jar down on it. “Now look,” the Slytherin says. “I’m gonna teach you a spell okay, you won’t learn this in school ‘til later but you’re smart, you’ll be fine.”

He pointed his wand at the jar, spoke the incantation clearly and precisely, and a small, bright blue flame appeared inside the glass. Robbie watched the tiny ball of fire bob around the jar happily.

“There, see? Instant night-light.”

Of course, his brother knew about Robbie needing a light to sleep. He’d never mentioned it, but he hadn’t needed to, Robbie had always known that Glanni knew. But Robbie hadn’t expected this. Glanni tried to help as best he could with a lot of things, but Robbie still hadn’t expected him to try and help with this. Not if Robbie hadn’t asked anyway. It was thoughtful, deeply thoughtful and caring, and Robbie flung his arms around his brother. Glanni swaying slightly with the sudden force of it but returned the embrace eagerly, bringing a hand up to ruffle Robbie’s hair.

“Thanks, Glanni,” Robbie whispered into his brothers robe.

“No problem, kid.”

Robbie knew Glanni was smiling even if he couldn’t see it.

When they broke apart, Glanni got right down to business, teaching Robbie the incantation and wand movements of the spell until he had it down to a T. By the end of break, Robbie could both produce and extinguish a flame with no trouble at all. It was always a little smaller than Glanni’s, but his brother assured him that it would grow with practice. Robbie just had to be careful not to make it _too_ big.

When break ended, he wrapped the jar back up in the jumper and went to class, grinning.

That night, he set the jar back in its holder and whispered the incantation, wand pointed directly at the jar. The flame appeared bright and wavering in the glass just as it should, a soft, blue glow filling the closed canopy.

Robbie slept soundly that night, the light from the jar lulling him to sleep. It wasn’t a perfect sleep, he still woke a few times, but it was good enough.

 

* * *

 

 

They have Flying Lessons on his third day at Hogwarts. Flying Lessons, as it turns out, are not optional like Robbie had thought, but compulsory. And they are _horrible_.

The professor instructs everyone to hold their hand over their brooms and say ‘up’ – no, _command_ ‘up’. Robbie does, though it comes out a little shaky. He’s stronger on his second try and the broom flies up into his outreached palm and oh- oh _no that feels so incredibly_ **_wrong_**.

When the majority of the kids have their brooms in hand they’re instructed to get on and kick off, and are then to hover above the ground for a minute or so before coming back down.

Every fibre of his being is telling him not to get on that broom, even if he won’t be going more than a few inches off the ground. The broom doesn’t like him, and he doesn’t like it, the magic in each of them fizzing unpleasantly. It reminds him of when two cats meet and start hissing, fur raised and back arched.

Despite this, he swings one leg over the broom and kicks his foot against the ground. The broom immediately rises a foot into the air and stops. It’s really not that high, but no longer being on the ground coupled with the complete _wrongness_ of it all makes him freeze in fear. He can’t move. He has no idea how to get the broom back down on the ground and dismount but it turns out that he doesn’t need to know that, actually, because the broom does it for him. It bucks underneath him and throws him off and Robbie flies head first over the handle, landing harshly on his back.

The professor sighs a bit – apparently the first flying lesson of the year never goes smoothly – and pulls him gently off the ground and sends him to the hospital wing. He has a multitude of grazes and bruises on his back but they’re easily healed. The whispers and giggles that had followed him out of the training grounds stay with him.

 

* * *

 

 

On his fourth day of lessons at Hogwarts, he gets his first piece of homework set; six inches of parchment on floating charms.

This is fine; he knows this, he’s _got_ this.

Glanni tells him the same when they meet in the courtyard at break.

“You’ll be fine. You _know_ that shit.” Glanni assures him, like it’s a dead cert. He’s sat on one of the benches in an outside alcove of the castle, trying to transfigure a leaf into a bat. “And anyway, six inches really isn’t that big – for anything.” He chuckles to himself, and Robbie really doesn’t want to know why. “Wait ‘til you get to the twelve inchers, they’re painful. Or– _God_ , twenty-four inchers. Nothing should be that big. _Nothing_.”

“Shut up,” Robbie huffs, shoving him lightly on the arm. Glanni’s spell goes a little wide, and one of the leaves on the holly bush next to them turns into a tiny bat with unusually spiky wings and flies away.

Glanni barely bats an eyelid, pointing his want back at the leaf he had chosen before. “And that’s just going by inches. They stop doing that by like, fifth year, and then it’s by _rolls_ of Parchment. It’s _Hell_ , apparently,” Glanni smirks.

Robbie just rolls his eyes. He’s not actually that bothered about the length increasing. Sure, it’ll take so much longer to write but he’s always going to have enough knowledge to fill it so that’s fine. As the essay lengths increase, so will the amount of knowledge he learns. Plus, if he ever needs help he’s got Glanni. Glanni’s _super_ smart, and he prides himself on his excellent essay writing. He’s read some of his old ones out to Robbie and they’re works of art, honestly. He crams in so much into his essays, every one he writes chock full of points and marks because of all the stuff he knows and how many quotes facts he crams in them. Even times when he’s not too sharp on the subject always work out pretty well because Glanni is an expert at ‘bullshitting’ his way through an essay too. He’s an essay master.

His handwriting could be better though, Robbie muses. Well, not to Robbie that is, he thinks it’s really neat – as in cool, not tidy, because _man_ , it’s all over the place. It’s joined up and close together, with huge letters and an unbelievable amount of flourishes. It’s like calligraphy written by someone extremely hyper, and though it’s not actually hard to read or anything it _does_ make all his essays at least twice the size of everyone else’s despite holding the same amount of actual words. It really annoys the professors so Glanni’s handwriting _always_ gets written up. Robbie thinks it’s hilarious.

Robbie’s handwriting is a little similar actually. It isn’t joined up and it’s not quite as big, but it’s still bigger than most and he’s got a bit flick-y himself. It’s still much more legible than Glanni’s though, as far as handwriting goes.

He’s gonna ace this.

After saying goodbye to Glanni he heads upstairs to the common room – carefully following a group of Ravenclaws already on their way in because he doesn’t know the answer to the riddle – and sets up shop at one of the tables.

He gets his first essay written in just under an hour and he goes to bed feeling incredibly proud of himself.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the week passes, and by Friday evening Robbie has gained an essay for every class.

He spends most of his weekend writing essays and he’s _not_ feeling good about it. Not at all. He’d known he’d get quite a bit of homework, but not this much in the first week! And it’s all _written_ too – he’s got one charms spell to practice and that’s it, and since he’d gotten it first time in class he doesn’t have to spend more than ten minutes on it.

Glanni had not prepared him for this amount of work, he hadn’t told him this. He knows that he shouldn’t blame Glanni but he’s just so mad! He’d thought that he’d be fine with the workload, but with this much written work? No. This is not fine. And this is just the beginning. He’d been so confident before about essay lengths increasing as the years went by, but if it’s this bad now?

He’d feel like crying if he weren’t so mad.

The second he finishes his last essay he scrambles up to his dorm room to grab something from his suitcase and then heads down to the Slytherin common rooms as fast as he can. He knows the password, Glanni’s brought him in before and Robbie _remembers_. Usually he would wait to be let in but this time he needs to be sneaky. He knows it’s quiet in there right now – all the students enjoying the last sun of September, so he gives the password and goes in, heading straight for Glanni’s room.

He hides dungbombs in every inch of Glanni’s bedsheets he can find. There are two under his pillow, one tucked right into the bottom corners of his bed, and one in each of his school shoes. (He’s mad as heck but he doesn’t _dare_ touch any of Glanni’s other shoes, or, God forbid, his _clothes_.)

Then he sneaks back out into the common room. There’s a startled fourth year sat on the couches who wants to know what he’s doing here so Robbie just explains that he was looking for Glanni but he’s not here right now. She asks him how he got in and he doesn’t lie, telling her that he knew the password so he didn’t see the harm in using it to find his brother. He makes sure to sound super unaware of why he shouldn’t do that and sure enough she just warns him not to do it again because the passwords are there for a reason, and when he nods and says “oh, okay,” like the innocent tiny ickle firstie he is, she lets him go.

 

* * *

 

Glanni reacts quite well to the dungbombs, unfortunately. He’s proud that Robbie’s already causing mischief in his first week at Hogwarts, though he’s less than stellar about said mischief targeting his bed. It’s not just an issue of stinky sheets for a day – the small sticks to the wood frame of his four-poster bed. Still, the Slytherin just figures that it’s a practice run, a brotherly safety-net prank because Glanni is a _good_ first target for Robbie to get into the swing of things inside the castle, and _of course_ Glanni won’t be too upset or angry, _of course_ he’ll be proud of his little bro.

Robbie can’t really blame him, since to Glanni’s knowledge he hasn’t done anything to warrant an attack out of actual maliciousness. Robbie doesn’t have the heart to explain it to him, since he’s just so darn happy that Robbie seems to be comfortable enough, settled in enough, to prank someone – even if it’s just him.

Robbie doesn’t correct him on that either.

He’s quite glad though. A part of him wants to scream at Glanni and tell him why he deserved it, but a much, much _bigger_ part knows that it’s not Glanni’s fault and he really didn’t deserve it.

Glanni spends the rest of the day crowing about the prank and congratulating him, but Robbie goes to sleep that night incredibly disappointed in himself.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t speak to Glanni much in the week following the incident with the dungbombs. Glanni doesn’t mention it and he seems just as cheerful as ever. Robbie knows that if Glanni had a problem with him, he’d tell Robbie, so he really doesn’t think Glanni notices that Robbie’s kind of sort of avoiding him a little bit. He just feels so guilty.

Eventually though, Robbie gives himself a hard mental-shakedown. He still feels guilty, yes, but Glanni didn’t see it as an attack and he hadn’t been mad about it at all, so there was no harm done. The only one with the problem is Robbie, Glanni is completely oblivious and Robbie shouldn’t avoid him when Glanni thinks nothing’s wrong.

He perks up a tiny bit after that, pushing his guilt aside and concentrating on his work. When he sees Glanni he stops to chat with him like usual and Robbie feels much lighter, laughing and joking around with his brother.

Towards the end of the week though, Robbie starts getting homework again, and with that, he also gets last weeks handed-in essays returned to him.

Robbie’s good mood vanishes. None of them are good grades. Not at _all_.

At first he’d thought it was a mistake, but his next class had proven him wrong when he received his essay from that covered in red ink just like the other one. All the essays he receives back are the same.

He doesn’t understand – he thought he’d done so _well_. He’d written to the full length requested every time, with around an extra half an inch for good measure. Everything was well explained and elaborated on, but he still kept everything concise and free of waffle. He’d included quotes where appropriate and double checked every line of every essay afterwards to make sure his quotes and facts were well sourced and correct. They were perfect essays, which is why he’s so confused to see so many circles and slashes of red ink on his essays, every line picked apart and covered in corrections, and big red ‘ _Poor_ ’ and ‘ _Unacceptable_ ’ grades scrawled across the top.

He looks over the corrections that have been made and finds that all of them are on legibility and spelling, grammar and sentence structure. His work has been practically torn apart by his professors finding mistakes absolutely everywhere. To make it worse, _that’s_ the reason for his bad grades, not the content. Every essay has comments on the bottom essentially saying that even though his _knowledge_ was there, his actual writing made his work hard to understand, so they couldn’t give him good grades. He was getting _P’_ s and _D’_ s – and even one _T_ on his Herbology essay – even though the actual content was apparently _E_ and _O_ worthy. Just like he knew it had been.

He reads over the comments again and again, filled with sick fury.

All that hard work, hours and hours of writing down the drain. It was horrible and it was so unfair! So he apparently couldn’t spell very well. And he got letters mixed up or even backwards sometimes – who cared? As long as he could prove he knew this stuff and answer correctly, which he _was_ doing, why couldn’t they just accept that and give him the grades he deserved.

Stupid. It was stupid. _They_ were stupid.

Robbie was not stupid. He knew his stuff, he was smart. The professors were really dumb if they couldn’t see that. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

Still, he’d tried fixing the essays anyway, staying up late and reading through them again and again, trying to catch any errors and fix them. Reading wasn’t the easiest for him either; he could read, but not a lot at once or as quickly as some others. He could read his own writing a little better but it still didn’t make reading through those essays much easier and it still took ages to do, trying to hunt down mistakes that he couldn’t see. The corrections highlighted what was apparently wrong, but half the time that didn’t help him at all. He couldn’t see anything wrong. Honestly, if he _could_ see the mistakes he was making he wouldn’t have made them in the first place! Or he would’ve fixed them before he handed the work in at least.

It was a largely fruitless task and he wasted an entire night on it, which just made him even more frustrated, leading to a full-blown meltdown in the common room in the early hours of the morning. He ended up crying himself to sleep on one of the couches by the fire, surrounded by ink streaked pieces of parchment.

In the morning he wakes up sore and tired and in such a foul mood that Glanni packs up some pastries and takes him outside the second he Robbie enter the Great Hall, spinning him around and taking him back to the Slytherin common room.

One of the best things about Glanni is that Robbie can yell at him. He can go to him when it’s all too much and just _let go_ , screaming at Glanni until his voice his hoarse and he can’t see for tears, getting all his frustration and rage and hate out. Glanni will take it silently, waiting until Robbie’s done before dragging him into his arms and holding him.

This is what happens now. Glanni takes him into his room Robbie _breaks_ , crying and screaming at Glanni about how unfair it was and how stupid the professors were. Glanni merely sits on the bed and listens. Robbie can’t sit down yet, he’s got so much rage, so much raw energy that he _has_ to keep moving, so he does, pacing and waving his arms around and twitching his nose as he rants and raves, and soon it’s not just the grades he’s yelling about, but the castle and it’s stupid stairs and how much he hates them, about how tired he always is even though he’s sleeping okay and how he can’t fly.

Glanni just sits in silence and waits for Robbie to yell himself out and when Robbie finally does, standing there crying and shaking, Glanni pulls him onto the bed with him and draws him into his arms and just holds him, gently rocking him back and forth whilst Robbie sobs into his shoulder.

When he stops crying Glanni pulls away and takes Robbie’s face in his arms.

“You listen to me. School is _hard_. Lessons are hard and work is hard and people are hard. Not always, but at some point they’re _gonna_ be, okay?”

Robbie sniffs loudly, nodding as best he can manage with his face squished between his brother’s palms.

“I will _always_ be there to help you.” Glanni tells him, looking Robbie dead in the eyes. “If you need help with your work, you _come_ to me, alright?” He sighs. “I know your spelling’s… not the best and–” he breaks off, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. His hands relax a little against Robbie’s face.

Robbie knows has trying to be nice about it, trying not to offend him, but Glanni’s the one person who could get away with saying pretty much anything to him. “Say it,” he orders quietly. “It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ ‘fine’.” Glanni growls, removing his hands from Robbie’s face and clenching them in his lap.

“You’re not doing it to be mean.” Robbie says gently. “It’s a fact; I write like a five-year-old. I can’t spell, I get words mixed up and letters backwards.”

The anger goes out of Glanni, and he deflates, hunching in on himself. “Yeah.”

“I know that,” Robbie assures him. “But I’m getting everything right, and they’re _still_ marking me down because I can’t write too well.” He picks at the fabric of his long sleeves, scowling. “I– I didn’t think it was this _bad_ , though. I really didn’t. I’m so _stupid_.” He goes to bury his face in his sleeves and hide but Glanni catches him by the wrists and stops him.

“You are _not_ stupid.” He tells Robbie firmly. “You are _not_. You are one of the fucking smartest people I know and they know that too. It’s in your work, and they can see that.”

“They why don’t they give me the grades?”

Glanni sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. “Because- because they think it’ll _help_. knowledge ain’t your problem, kid, and they know that, so they’re gonna assume that you write the way you do because you’re not trying hard enough, so they think if they give you bad grades it’ll encourage you to try harder and not piss about with your work.”

“But I’m not–”

“I know you aren’t! You’re trying your damn best and they can see that too–”

“But that’s not _enough!_ ” Robbie wails, tearing up.

“Fuck it!” Glanni shouts, “fuck them, then, if they’re to lazy themselves to see what’s in front of their own eyes.” HE backs down, running a hand over his face warily. “Look, just… you’re trying your best and that’s all that matters, okay? They’ll see you’re smart, that you’re not just being lazy about this, but it might take some time.”

Robbie _is_ smart. He knows it and Glanni knows it and that makes Robbie feel so much better… still.

“What if they don’t, Glanni? What if they _don’t_ get better about it?”

Glanni rubs his hand along the leg of his pants uncomfortably. “Well… then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay bud? Its only like, two weeks in. You’ve got time, they’ve got time.”

Robbie nods, and Glanni spreads his arms. He falls into his brother’s arms gratefully, snuggling into Glanni’s side.

“As for the other stuff…” Glanni says. “You’re eleven and this is your first couple of weeks of school ever. Your body isn’t _used_ to all this work yet, especially being as stressed as you are. I’m glad that the bluebell flame seems to be working but you never sleep fantastically anyway. I hate to keep telling you to wait on stuff, but your body will get used to the stress and the schedule and work of school and eventually you’ll be less tired.”

“I know that,” Robbie whispers into Glanni’s robes. “It’s just annoying feeling so bad all the time.”

“I know it is, little Robin,” Glanni whispers back, holding Robbie tighter. “It really doesn’t matter if you can’t fly by the way,” he says after a few minutes, “sports are for losers anyway.”

Robbie laughs. He really doesn’t see much point in anything that counts as exercise, though he does respect the amount of time and effort that can go into a sport. (A waste of a time, that is.) Glanni feels the same, but Robbie knows that that remark is because his ‘Greatest Enemy’ is the star of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team which makes sports _evil_ in Glanni’s eyes now.

“And the stairs…” Glanni sighs, shifting a little. “I’m sorry Robbie. I didn’t think about how you’d react to them. I know they’re high up, but they’re _stairs_ , I really didn’t think about it.”

“It’s fine.” Robbie turns his face into Glanni’s side.

Glanni hums but he clearly isn’t forgiving himself. “Look, why don’t I show you some ways to get around the stairs, yeah?”

Robbie removes his face form Glanni’s robes and looks up at him, confused. “What do you mean.”

“Don’t go telling everybody this okay,” – which Robbie knows means ‘tell nobody’ – “but there might- _might!_ – be some secret passages around the school and I _might_ know where some of them are.”

Robbie’s eyes widen because _oh my God **secret passages**_.

“And I _might_ be willing to show you because they can beat the stairs and because I am _a cool big brother_.”

“The coolest,” Robbie agrees, slightly dazedly.

Glanni grins. “Damn right. I can’t show you now because we’ve already missed first period but what about this weekend? Everyone’ll be outside.” Glanni looks a bit unsure. “Can you hold on ‘til then? With the stairs?”

“Yes.” Robbie tells him, sure. The stairs suck but he’s been avoiding most of them on his own. He can do it for one more week.

“Good.” Glanni smiles, “now we’re gonna go wash your face and then we gotta get to class.” He stands and offers Robbie his hand, which he takes, nodding.

He misses his first class but it’s alright because he’s with Glanni. Glanni’s helping.

 

* * *

 

 

For a little while, things are kind of okay. His written grades don’t improve, but his _physical_ work is stellar. There are a lot of smart Ravenclaws, and they’re each good at different things, but when it comes to class work Robbie is one of the best. _The_ best, in some lessons. That ‘liberal’ magic thing really has come in handy, it seems. He’d had a couple of stumbles at the beginning but now that he’d gotten the hang of _telling_ his magic to do stuff instead of it just _doing it,_ he’s fine.

His in-class work is coming on in leaps and bounds and his teachers are praising him a lot in lessons, and he usually earns at least one point for his house in every class. It’s such a drastic difference to his written work, where he can’t do anything right and they’re all disappointed in him.

He still doesn’t talk to anybody but Glanni, but he figures that once he gets used to the workload and his sleeping improves a bit, like Glanni said, they’ll warm up to him. He’s looking forward to that. It’s nice spending time with Glanni and he really does love his brother, but he’s starting to get lonely. The relative solitude had been nice at first, but now… not so much.

Glanni’s secret passages work wonders and he hasn’t had to use the stairs at all aside from any absolute emergencies, in which he just grits his teeth and tries not to throw up because its either use them or be late.

It’s still not perfect, but it’s all going pretty well. He just has to wait it out. Everything will get better with time.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie keeps that optimistic mentality up until just over a month of being at Hogwarts, and then things start to get _bad_.

The other Ravenclaws are finally starting to cotton on to the fact that he’s not answering any of the riddles to get in and is instead waiting for others to answer so he can follow them inside. At first they all think he’s being lazy. Then they all realise he just can’t do them.

He gets a couple of looks of pity, particularly from the older years, but for the most part it’s just judgment he sees in their eyes.

They’re starting to doubt him.

Indeed, he starts hearing about how he’s secretly not that smart, and that students are wondering of he’s really a proper Ravenclaw, which devastates and confuses him because they _know_ he’s smart. They see how well he does in class, how good he is at magic and how many points he earns in lessons.

Still, he’s been preparing himself for this since he first discovered that riddles were the protection for the stupid door, the fear swirling through his mind every time he waited behind someone else to get into the common room. The fear told him he would be mocked, that they would doubt his intelligence, his Sorting. He expected this reaction, but also didn’t because he’s already proved how smart he is in other ways. Just because he’s not good at riddles doesn’t mean he’s not a proper Ravenclaw. Does it?

They watch him whenever he comes into the common room, he feels their eyes on him almost constantly. He loves the common room, it’s his favourite place in the whole castle besides Glanni’s room – but that’s because Glanni’s in it – and it’s _beautiful_. It feels homey.

Or at least it _did_. Now it feels toxic and oppressive, and he hates being in there when people are around. Even in the quiet parts of the day, he’s constantly on edge and never able to truly get comfortable, waiting for someone to come in and see him there.

The only time he really spends in there now is at night. Pretty much the only thing that’s actually gotten better is his sleeping schedule. His sleepless nights are still much more frequent than they ever have been, but the nights he does manage sleep are pretty routine now. He’ll get into bed at ten, fall asleep at eleven, and then wake up at two, at which point he goes down to the common room. He can’t do a lot down there but it’s nice, peaceful. He sits by the fire and watches the stars move slowly across the ceiling, or watches the embers flicker in the fire. Sometimes he’ll read, either for pleasure or lessons, or he’ll inspect one of the many weird knick-knacks that are dotted around the room. He’d work on his essays, but they usually get him all riled up. This is quiet time for him, time to calm down and just be, with no pressure and no one around or awake to see him, until he feels like he can get back to sleep – which is usually around four in the morning. Then he goes back to bed and wakes up again properly at seven and showers and dresses before he hurries down to breakfast.

He hates that he can only spend time there comfortably in the dead of night. It’s peaceful, yes, but if feels sneaky. Like what he’s doing is forbidden, like he shouldn’t be there. The Ravenclaw common room is meant to be his home away from home. It’s not, even though it feels like it should be. Like it _could_ be.

Most of his free time is now spent in the library. Until now he hasn’t needed anything aside form his own mandatory school books and memory to help with his work so he hadn’t been in there. Plus, if he needed to do his homework, well, he had the common room. That’s not really an option for him now. Not a comfortable one anyway.

The library is nice, and he can spend as much time as he wants in there, holed away from everyone else and surrounded by books. There are plenty of comfortable chairs, and even though the librarian is a bit stern she recognises that he just wants to work quietly and likes to learn so she leaves him be. He has a feeling she has a slight favour for the Ravenclaws, and even though that might be a tiny bit unfair he’s not going to discourage it if it means he gets left alone.

He enjoys spending time there. It’s not the common room, but it’s still nice. If he doesn’t have any essays to do then he’ll sit in there and read, and if he finds a book that interests him then he’ll check it out. He’ll read it when he wakes up in the night, in those two precious common room hours.

It’s a nice reprieve from everything else. From every _one_ else.

Aside from the Ravenclaws finding out about his trouble with the knocker and doubting his intelligence, the rest of the school is watching him for a different reason.

They’re starting to notice Robbie’s little _habits_. How he rubs things, like his pant leg or his sleeves or his robes; how he moves his face a lot and scowls, how his nose wrinkles and twitches, how he makes faces for no reason; how jumpy he is; how he snorts to himself, when he’s not even laughing. It was noticeable to his own house back when he spent time in the common room, but everyone else has picked up on it too. _They_ see him in class, and in the Great Hall for meals, and out and about on the grounds or the corridors.

They _all_ notice, and they all whisper and stare and give him odd looks. He hasn’t even done anything to deserve them. He knew he fidgeted quite a bit but was it really that bad? Lots of people fidget or to little things to comfort them or calm them down. And lots of people snorted when they laughed, or thought of something funny. Glanni said it was cute. He was probably teasing but, you know. Not in a _bad_ way.

That, in combination with the riddle thing, means that everywhere he goes he’s being judged and talked about and he _hates_ it. Plus, it’s blown any chance of making friends out the window completely. He’s weird. No one wants to be friend with the weird kid.

Not that they wanted to be friends with him before. His sour mood from his first week here had put everyone off from approaching him and even though his sleep schedule is evening out a bit and he’s slightly less tired, people are _still_ avoiding him because of his behaviour back then. And now he’s in an even _worse_ mood because all _this_ is happening, so not only do people want to avoid him even more, but those who do have the courage to approach him are scared away by his newly worsened mood.

He’s the school idiot, the school grump, and the school weirdo all at once.

Well, Robbie always has been a high achiever.

 

* * *

 

 

Months pass and nothing gets better.

The weird looks don’t stop and the whispers and laughs don’t either. Of course, Glanni comes down on them all with an iron fist - and several pranks – once he finds out, but that only really helps him with the Slytherins, and even then it’s only some of them. Glanni might practically rule the school but he can’t rule the minds of judgemental eleven to eighteen year olds.

Robbie gets grumpier and grumpier, until his mood is hardly ever anything but black and snappy, though in reality he supposes that there hasn’t really been a time at Hogwarts that he’s been happy or cheerful. The closest he gets to that is when he spends time with Glanni.

The only person he _has_ is Glanni. He has no friends, from either his own house or he rest of them because he’s ‘weird’, and being ‘smart’ meant nothing to anybody if you couldn’t write perfectly and answer riddles after one second of thinking so he wasn’t a ‘proper’ Ravenclaw.

The teachers don’t stop giving him bad grades either. A month goes by with no change, then two, then three. Halloween and Christmas and holidays and terms go by with no change whatsoever. They all think he’s lazy and not trying hard, enough even though he is. Glanni helps with as much as he can but at the end of the day, he’s got his own load of work to do too. Robbie stops taking him work to go through as often, and though he’s fully aware that Glanni knows things still aren’t great, Glanni doesn’t bring it up so Robbie figures that his brother thinks everything’s improving, even if it’s just a little bit. He can’t bring himself to tell Glanni any differently, and takes Glanni’s encouragements and brotherly reassurances with forced smiles.

He does the homework to the specifications of the teachers, trying his hardest to give them what they want, trying so desperately to fix a problem that he can’t even see. He still loves learning and soaks up information like a sponge, but it becomes less about learning _for_ enjoyment and more about proving himself, about proving that he’s smart, because he knows _so much stuff_ so he _can’t_ be stupid, _come on_.

Eventually, though, he stops trying. His peers started to pick up on his written grades about halfway through the year, so any lingering positive opinions the had regarding his intelligence are completely destroyed. He’s silent in class, no longer raising his hand to earn points and reacts to everyone who tries to speak to him like a wounded dog, snapping and snarling. It isolates him even further, but at least he’s now disliked for something he’s _actually_ **_done_**.

On the train-ride home at the end of the year, Robbie cries.

He’s spent the majority of his first year at Hogwarts, the best school in wizarding Britain, holed up in the library avoiding everyone because they hate him, learning everything he can to prove his intelligence to kids who don’t care and writing essays for teachers who seem to think that _he_ doesn’t.

Hogwarts is _Hell_ , and Robbie never wants to go back.


	3. 2nd Year, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Robbie's Second year at Hogwarts, featuring the proper Introduction of Sportacus. Robbie has a bit of a breakdown, and Glanni has plans for this year's Halloween feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is nearly 3am and i just got this finished. apologies for any mistakes.

The train ride up to Hogwarts is not as good the second time around. Mainly because instead of nervousness and butterflies fluttering around Robbie’s stomach and excited wondering in his brain, this time there is nothing but a hard, cold lump of dread in his stomach and an awful headache prickling behind his eyes. He will concede that both trips include him stuffing his face with chocolate frogs though, even if this time it’s mostly stress eating instead of his usual sugar cravings.

Glanni doesn’t sit with him on the train, siting with his friends in another compartment. That’s absolutely fine, and not just because Robbie prefers to ride alone but also because Glanni still loves Hogwarts, and even if Robbie thinks the place is Hell on Earth he will not take that away from his brother. He’s found friends, people he likes, people who like _him_. He’s made enemies, sure, but he has friends to back him up, and those enemies don’t consist of the entire school. (Well, not for more than a day or two at a time anyway.) Like Robbie, he’s doing excellently in his most of his classes, but unlike Robbie no one hates him for it.

Glanni’s got all the traits of a Slytherin and then some, and he’s smart. Robbie may be smart – perhaps smarter, in some ways – but he’s _not_ a Ravenclaw. He can’t be. He can read well enough, if a bit slowly, but he can’t answer riddles and he can’t seem to write to save his life – or his grades. He’s smart, Robbie knows he’s smart, and so do others – they can see it in his class performance. But they can also see the bright red P’s and D’s scrawled across the essays he gets back, which makes him dumb even though he’s clearly not. He dreads to think what would happen if Hogwarts had math classes too.

His hands clench into fists at the thought. He forces them open and rubs his fingers against the fabric of his sleeves instead, grimacing. He opens another chocolate frog and tries not to think about how wrong the Sorting Hat was.

 

* * *

 

 

The trip up to the castle isn’t as good the second time round either. The carriages don’t have the same wonder as the boats at all. He misses the boats, unsettling and dangerous as they were. Even though he feels like crying at the thought of returning to Hogwarts, he still admires the castle’s beauty. No matter _how_ beautiful it is though, as he watches the castle draw ever closer through the window of the carriage he can’t help but feel sick.

Later, as he steps out of the carriage and stands at the steps of Hogwarts Robbie begs anything in the universe that might be listening for his second year to be better.

He doesn’t have much hope.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t sleep again, that first night back. He spends hours lying awake under the covers of his bed with a stomach of lead, despite the soft blue glow of his night-light jar. Glanni had taught him a really good silencing charm at the end of last year so he casts that around the curtains surrounding his bed so he can say all the comforting words he wants and hum all his favourite soothing songs, but none of them work.

In the end, he crawls out of bed and quietly slips down the stairs to the common room. He spends hours sat on one of the sofas next to the fire, watching the flames and thinking about what tomorrow will be like. He likes the classes, sort of, because despite everything he still does love to learn and there’ll be _lots_ of new things on the curriculum. He _has_ read ahead a little, and Glanni’s already taught him some stuff above his station but there still plenty left. He focuses on that, on the good things instead of all the bad things, and manages to fall asleep at four am, still on the sofa.

It doesn’t last though, and he wakes at half five. He’s out of the common room and heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast before anyone else is even awake.

 

* * *

 

 

The first week of classes go okay – not _good_ , but alright – if only because he’s long learnt what to expect. In every class, he sits alone at the back taking notes in silence. He doesn’t talk to anyone else, the mix of him not liking anyone and them not liking him keeping everyone at bay. He only ever talks to the Professors and even then, that’s only if he’s directly asked. He doesn’t answer questions of his own accord anymore, he usually earns points by getting practical work right first try anyway.

He listens well and takes notes in all of them – except for in History of Magic, in which he goes straight to sleep. He’s very grateful for that actually. Like last year, he doesn’t seem to be settling yet, sleep-wise, so this is a good chance for him to catch up on the hours he missed. At least this year he knows _will_ settle; it’ll just take a little time, that’s all.

History of Magic is always something he prefers to learn on his own anyway, though if the teacher weren’t so incredibly boring he’d also love to listen to what he’s being taught. But the teacher _is_ incredibly boring, so Robbie grabs the general points of the lesson before settling down and grabbing the sleep he sorely needs.

It’s fine, everyone does the same. And he pays attention in all his other lessons anyway so it’s not like he’s a slacker.

That’s the opinion of his teachers though. That Friday, they all get their homework from over the summer back. He’d done it all, even though he hadn’t wanted to, even though he’d felt like just not bothering, seeing as none of it was ever going to be right anyway. It was a waste of effort. Hours of hard work for terrible grades he didn’t deserve. He did do it though, and he still _tried_. It’s a waste of effort, but he still tries to prove that he can do it, even though he knows full well that he _can’t_.

Sure enough, he sees the disappointment in his Professor’s eyes. He knows they were all hoping he’ll have improved over the summer. They’re waiting for him to apply himself, to try as hard with the written work as he does in the practical stuff. They just don’t get that he _is_ trying. Hell, he’s trying _harder_ with his written work!

It doesn’t show though. The looks that the teachers give him as they hand him essays covered in red ink and failed grades make him want to crawl into a hole somewhere and never come out.

 

* * *

 

 

Like last year, Robbie spends most of his free time in the library. He hasn’t been back to the common room for ‘free’ time in… months. Over half a year, at least. He doesn’t go in there unless he has to or it’s completely empty, which is only the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning, before everyone’s up.

He gets his essays done in there, and since that’s what takes up most of his time, that’s usually where he is. He used to take a few of them to Glanni but… well. He’d not been bringing anywhere near as many by the end of last year but now he doesn’t bring any at all. Glanni had wanted to help, and still does, but Robbie couldn’t take everything to Glanni – he had his own stuff to do – and besides, Glanni can’t teach him how to do it himself. He can help fix some of the problems Robbie’s bad writing causes, but he can’t solve the bad writing itself.

Robbie could tell that Glanni hated not being able to help him, so this year he doesn’t bring him anything unless he actually doesn’t understand the subject.

That’s not to say he doesn’t see Glanni. Despite their differences regarding life at Hogwarts they don’t let it affect their relationship with each other and continue to be as thick as thieves. They just hang out and talk, like they did last year. They spend time devising plans for pranks, working out how to make the most of their Ravenclaw/Slytherin partnership. Robbie comes up with lots of plans and Glanni finds ways to pull them off without getting caught, and Robbie finds ways to make some of Glanni’s more… creative plans actually _possible_. They make a good team, and the mischief makes Robbie happy.

Glanni also teaches Robbie some more of the spells he’s learning, which helps Robbie a lot. Plus, it’s something to do besides read and work on homework – And even though he’s only a second year, they do come in useful. He’d taught Robbie the Bluebell Flame spell last year, and silencing charm he uses on his bed over the summer. He also uses that one in the library sometimes, when he wants to hum or mutter to himself without disturbing anyone. He likes learning stuff that’s meant to be taught two or so years ahead. It makes him feel smart.

They talk a lot too, about little things or big things, it doesn’t matter. They talk about anything and everything, though Robbie notices the topics of friends or homework don’t come up as much anymore, not concerning Robbie at least, and they mostly stick to other subjects. Robbie lets Glanni rant and rave about how awful Herbology and Astronomy are and how infuriating and ridiculous Íþróttaálfurinn is, and Glanni lets Robbie ramble on about mechanics for as long as he likes. He’s very grateful. There’s really no one else to talk to about it, so it’s good to get to talk about it. Glanni’s can follow along most of the time and does talk back about it even if he doesn’t know a hundred percent of what Robbie’s going on about.

They trade sweets – since Glanni gets to go on the Hogsmeade trips – and makeup tips and techniques. Glanni helps Robbie get his eyeliner sharper, helps him find a brand of mascara that doesn’t clump as much. Robbie doesn’t wear as much makeup as Glanni. He might wear a little bit more at home, but at school he just can’t be bothered - and he’s only twelve, he doesn’t need it. It’s good to learn though; if he does want to start wearing it more, it’ll be nice to be able to do it properly. In return, Robbie helps Glanni bedazzle his outfits, since he still can’t get his Slytherin tie to turn pink, helps him create new looks and generally mess around with Glanni’s makeup kit, see how much glitter he can help Glanni pack onto his face before the teachers intervene, and helps him with his everyday makeup if he turns up early enough.

By the end of his first year, he’d become a bit of an early morning and late evening regular in the Slytherin common room. He gets some weird looks at first, but most of it’s simply the novelty of seeing a Ravenclaw student in the Slytherin common room. Eventually that novelty wears off, and some of the older students start letting him in of their own accord if they see him loitering about the entrance instead of him having to wait for Glanni to com get him. Now they even let him in when Glanni’s not there. It’s nice, but it makes him feel slightly worse that he feels more at home in their common room than he does his own, so he doesn’t tend to stick around if Glanni isn’t there. Sometimes though, the feeling of belonging somewhere in this castle, even slightly, gets the better of him and he falls asleep on one of the Slytherin sofas reading whilst waiting for Glanni. The Slytherins let him sleep, and he’ll often wake with one of them sat at the other end of the sofa, watching over him.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s during the end of the fourth week of the year when things change.

He’s in the library, curled up in one of the comfiest chairs they have and sucking on a sugar quill as he tries to finish the third paragraph of a Potions essay as someone sits next to him.

He ignores them. This is a library; he came here to work – not converse. Plus, he knows that whoever this is, he’ll probably just snap at them since this essay is really starting to get on his nerves, so it’s the best for both of them if he doesn’t interact.

The person doesn’t move away, but they also art trying to get his attention. After a few moments though, the chair begins to vibrate slightly. It’s the kind of vibrations that come from jiggling a leg or a foot at high speed; Glanni does it sometimes, when he’s bored or if he’s thinking too hard about something. It’s kind of comforting actually.

This isn’t Glanni though – Glanni wouldn’t’ve stayed quiet for this long, no way. Curiosity prompts him to lift his head up to see who it is and his face automatically twists into a grimace at the sight of curly blond hair and sky blue eyes.

_Sportacus_.

Oh, Robbie knows Sportacus. _Everyone_ knows Sportacus.

A Second year, like Robbie, he’s the Hufflepuff who cartwheeled up to the Hat in their Sorting Ceremony. Since then he’s also gone on to become one of the best keepers Hufflepuff’s had in years, despite only being a Second year, and everybody loves him. He’s nice, he’s kind and sweet and nobody can’t _not_ love him, apparently.

Robbie hates him.

Apparently, Sportacus doesn’t know that. “Hello,” he says, smiling.

Robbie glares at him.

Unlike most people, Sportacus seems unfazed by Robbie’s lack of answer or greeting and barrels on. “I was wondering if you could help me,” he begins, and Robbie doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to know where this is going.

“You’ve probably noticed I’m not doing so well in Transfiguration or Charms.”

Stupid. Of _course_ Robbie’s noticed. Sportacus is only passing most of his classes due to good practical work, but in Transfiguration and Charms he’s abysmal even at that. He set something on fire in Transfiguration last week.

“I know you’re really good at Transfiguration and Charms, I was wondering if you’d tutor me?”

Oh _wow_ , he’s a bigger idiot than Robbie thought. _‘Ask the kid who **can’t write** to tutor you,’_ he thinks derisively, _‘excellent decision.’_ It’s got to be a prank or a joke or some kind, maybe a dare. One of the ‘nicest’ kids in your year doesn’t just come up to you to ask to tutor them, not when you’re Robbie Glæpur.

“Go away,” Robbie tells him shortly, before closing his book and getting up and walking out of the library, leaving Sportacus sat alone on the couch.

What a fool.

 

* * *

 

 

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are often paired together for classes, which Robbie has always thought is a stupid decision because it means that Gryffindor and Slytherin are paired together just as much, and Robbie cannot fathom how anybody would be dumb enough to think that putting the two houses with the biggest rivalry in the whole school together is in any way a good idea.

Idiocy of the decision aside however, it does mean that Robbie shares a number of classes with the Hufflepuffs, so the next time they have Charms together, Robbie watches Sportacus. He’s curious. He knew Sportacus was awful at Charms and Transfiguration, but to actually ask him for help with the subjects… he must be doing worse than Robbie thought.

Indeed, the professor instructs them on the use of a simple freezing charm. They are all given a small cup of water each and, after a few minutes to practice wand movements and incantations, told to freeze the water in the cup solid.

Robbie has seen Glanni use this plenty of times, freezing unsuspecting people’s drinks, so he already knows all the theory behind it. Indeed, when he cast the spell and told his magic what to do, the water in the cup froze almost immediately.

Sportacus does not have as much luck. Plenty of other people get it on the second try or the third, but by the end of the lesson Sportacus hasn’t even managed to turn the water in his cup to slush, never mind ice. It was kind of sad to watch, actually.

Not that Robbie cares. No one was mad at Sportacus, or laughing at him, and it had taken him all lesson! No, instead Sportacus was receiving a pat on his back from someone, and receiving consoling words from his friends. It didn’t seem to dampen his spirit at all, his smile practically lighting up the classroom even though he’d just failed.

Sneering, Robbie repeated the charm just for good measure, freezing the tiny bit of ice that had melted. See? See what he could do? No one congratulated him for doing it _right_.

He rubbed the cuff of his sleeve a few times, scowling.

After the cups had been collected and their progress evaluated – he’d earned a point of Ravenclaw – the Professor gave them all back their essays from last week. Robbie immediately squeezed his eyes shut and turned it over. He didn’t want to see what he’d gotten, instead shoving it into his bag. He’d look over it later. Alone.

It’s not like he doesn’t already know what’s on it anyway.

The charms seats were tiered, with Robbie on the top tier and Sportacus on the bottom, near the Professor, so whilst everyone was inspecting what they got Robbie peeked over everyone else’s heads to see what the Hufflepuff had got. There was a red ‘P’ across the top, and Robbie could see more red ink scrawled throughout his work.

_‘Huh,’_ Robbie thought. _‘No wonder he’s failing.’_

 

* * *

 

 

After that, Robbie took careful note whenever they shared a class together, and he noticed something. Whatever his skill level in practical work, Sportacus written work was _bad_ – not quite Robbie’s level of awful, but it was never more than an ‘A’ even in his best lessons, and was always littered with corrections.

At first he’d just assumed that he was bad at the lesson, having first started looking during Charms and Transfiguration; lessons Sportacus was clearly awful at in all aspects, but when he showed proficiency in Potions and Astronomy, Robbie was surprised to see him get work handed back with low grades and corrections in those lessons too.

He couldn’t comment for classes like DADA, or Herbology or History of Magic because he didn’t share them with the Hufflepuffs, but if he _was_ good at them, would he be getting bad written grades in those lessons too?

It was… weird. And very, very unfair.

Sportacus was getting bad written grades, but not only did he not seem upset by it, the teachers didn’t either. They just handed him his paper like it was a perfectly reasonable expectation, like Sportacus shouldn’t be trying any harder than he was, or couldn’t. The teachers didn’t seem to think he was being lazy about it like Robbie oh-so-clearly was, they just accepted that he was doing bad work. Why? Why didn’t they care if he was handing in bad essays? Sportacus wasn’t actively failing in most of those classes, Robbie supposed, but neither was _he!_ Robbie had some of the best practical grades in his class – if not _the_ best in some cases – but when _his_ essays came back with bad grades did he just get a smile and a pat on the back? No! His teachers gave him sad looks, annoyed looks, looks that told him he should and could do better even though he really, _really_ couldn’t.

It wasn’t fair, and Robbie felt glad that he hadn’t helped Sportacus. He would _never_ help him.

 

* * *

 

 

After that realisation, Robbie makes sure to get in on whatever havoc Glanni was planning on wreaking that week, as a little stress relief. He sends Glanni an owl that same day and gets a reply with his breakfast the next morning.

_‘Brother,’_ the letter says, _‘you’re right, I think it’s shameful that we don’t spend too much time together. We should catch up. I’ll be free break today for little chat if you want? Love Glanni xox’_

Robbie smiles at it, then sneaks a look over to Glanni, who shoots him a quick wink.

That break he finds Glanni huddled in an extra thick set of robes, sat on one of the benches in the courtyard. Even under all those layers, including a hat, scarf and some sort of fur ruff – which, _wow_ – he’s shivering, and the moment Robbie sits down Glanni declares “fuck this,” and immediately grabs Robbie’s hand and drags him towards the castle to get a bit more indoors. When they’re somewhere a bit warmer and finally settle down, they discuss plans.

It turns out, Glanni’s been wanting to do something to the fourth floor girl’s bathrooms for a while. Something non-destructive – he has respect for their makeup skills, and wouldn’t do anything to tamper with that – but fun.

“What about glitter?” Robbie suggests. Glanni’s love for glitter is known across the school, so Glanni should love it.

Sure enough, Glanni grins. “A classic,” he agrees, “but what do we do with it?”

They brainstorm for a bit, both agreeing that they want to effectively glitterbomb the girls but not sure how to do it.

“I’m not using buckets,” Glanni announces. “What’s the point of having magic if we don’t use it?”

Robbie hums his agreement.

“Plus, we need to save our supplies,” his brother reminds, “Halloweens coming up and we’re going to make it _big_.”

 “One plan at a time Glanni,” Robbie chuckles, and Glanni reaches over to ruffle his brother’s hair.

“I know little Robin, I know.”

They think for a minute.

“What if we charm the taps to run glitter instead of water?” Robbie offers.

“I kinda want to get it on them,” Glanni says. “All over ‘em, not just their hands.”

“I know,” Robbie sighs, thinking hard. “Stuff it down the sinks?”

Glanni nods approvingly but they’ll still need more.

“Put something under it,” Robbie says suddenly, “block the pipe first, then put something on the blockage that pushes the glitter up; like a jack-in-the-box spring.”

“Then it shoots up and– _POW_ ,” Glanni punches his own hand, “straight in the face!”

From the unbridled glee in Glanni’s eyes, Robbie’s hit it.

“God, _yes_ – excellent!” the Slytherin crows, pulling Robbie into a hug, “genius, you’re a _genius_!” He pulls back, holding Robbie by the shoulder and then smooches him wetly on the cheek.

Robbie grumbles and wipes at his cheek but he’s smiling. “We need to think of something to put under the glitter. Something that reacts with water? Then it’ll spring up when they turn the taps on.”

“You leave that to me, dear,” Glanni winks, slinging a conspiratorial arm around Robbie’s shoulders. “If we do it just before lunch, we can get ‘em when they go to the bathroom after class.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to leave a _nice_ present for Íþróttaálfurinn, too.”

Robbie rolls his eyes; of _course_ he is.

They decide to meet at the Slytherin dorms in a couple of days, when everyone is having lunch, Glanni promises to send him a letter and then they both sneak off to enjoy the last few minutes of their break.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, Robbie has a letter from Glanni that includes a slip ‘signed’ by a teacher to get him to leave class twenty minutes early – enough time to get to the bathrooms, shove everything in the sinks and get out as lunch starts.

On his way to DADA, slip stuffed in his picket, he passes Sportacus. He doesn’t think anything of it, until he hears the Hufflepuff cheerily exclaim “hello!” as he walks by. He looks up, startled by how close the sound was, only to realise that Sportacus was saying it _to_ him and not just _near_ him. He barely has time to gape because then Sportacus is gone, hurrying off to class as if it was completely normal to greet someone who ignored and rebuffed you like you were good friends.

He stands in the hallway for a moment, shocked, before shaking himself and heading off to class. He has a plan to pull off.

 

* * *

 

 

That lunch, Robbie hears the screams of about twenty girls as they all pile into the great hall, covered from head to toe with glitter in varying colours. The entire hall bursts into laughter, which is good because it helps cover up Glanni’s delighted cackles. His idiot brother is practically braining himself on the table he’s laughing so hard.

Robbie grins to himself, snickering and snorting behind his goblet of chocolate milk as the girls sit at their tables, complaining and gesturing wildly at the glitter. Glanni went through with the sticking charm too, then.

Hone of the girls sits next to Sportacus and Robbie notices the Hufflepuff giggling as she sits down, inspecting the glitter covering his friend. Robbie assumes she’s his friend anyway; Sportacus has a lot of friends, and he thinks this girl is also on the Quidditch team with him. Robbie watches him hand the girl some napkins and rolls his eyes as she tries – and fails – to wipe off the glitter.

Like it’d be that easy.

 

* * *

 

 

On the days leading up to Halloween, Robbie has a lot on his mind.

He’s got a couple of essays to finish, first and foremost, which aren’t exactly filling him with joy.

Sportacus is still weirding him out too. He’s said hello two more times in the past week and a half, smiling at Robbie like they’re friends. Robbie doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand _anything_ about Sportacus.

The Halloween Feast is also coming up at the end of the week, which means Glanni’s Big Plan is gonna be revealed. He’s been sharing titbits with Robbie, but hasn’t told him everything because he wants it to be a surprise for Robbie too. Robbie suspects that Glanni is trying to cheer him up, which he thinks is sweet.

He’s also been helping Glanni plan his Halloween outfit. It’s hard to customise a Hogwarts uniform – as Glanni well knows – but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

Still, Robbie can’t wait for the feast; one good thing about Hogwarts is that the food is always perfect, and themed feasts are nothing short of incredible. They’d put little edible sugar spiders in the jelly last year, and they’d turned his teeth black. Robbie might cry with joy if they do that jelly again this year.

So yeah, he’s got a lot to think about, which is why he’s wandering around the Hogwarts grounds at half six in the morning; to clear his head. He is _not_ exercising. He simply has a lot on his mind and was up early. Combine the two.

He really _is_ out early though. He should’ve packed a snack. Robbie thinks about the pack of bubble-gum flavoured lollies that Glanni brought him back from his last Honeydukes trip, sitting in the trunk under his bed. He sighs. He regrets this impulsive walk. It’s nice and it’s kind of working, but maybe if he’d been just a bit less impulsive he’d be happier right now.

He kicks a stone in frustration and it sails between two forked branches of a nearby tree.

“That was impressive, Robbie!” someone says from behind him and Robbie screeches, wand out before he’s even fully turned around. Sportacus stands at the receiving end of it, eyeing the wood pointed at his throat with some small degree of nervousness.

“Um,” he gulps, as Robbie stares wide-eyed at him, panting harshly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Robbie demands. “Who sneaks up on people at this time in the morning? What are you even doing _outside_ this early?” He does not lower his wand. He vaguely realises that he looks like a wild animal right now but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I always come out here this early – I run every day before breakfast,” Sportacus beams, and Robbie’s jaw drops open, wand lowering in shock.

What kind of _weirdo_ voluntarily gets up and runs at half six in the morning? At age _twelve_ too. If someone even thought about trying make Robbie do that he’d kill them with his bare hands.

“What are you doing out here?” Sportacus asks. “I’ve never see you out this early before.”

The wand goes back up immediately. “I,” Robbie hisses, “am _not_ exercising.”

The Hufflepuff raises his hands defensively. “I didn’t say you were.”

“I’m not!”

“I believe you!”

Robbie narrows his eyes at the other boy and slowly, so slowly, lowers his wand.

Sportacus smiles. “So–”

Robbie turns around and leaves as fast as he can without actively running.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie refuses to leave the common room before eight after that, no matter how bored or filled up with thoughts he is. If he’s _really_ restless, he’ll make himself sit and doodle randomly to pass time until breakfast.

He determinedly puts Sportacus out of his mind after that encounter, trying his best to get to Halloween without unnecessary thoughts rattling around his head. Or unnecessary _Hufflepuffs_.

Glanni’s sending him coded letters every day and grabbing him every single free moment Robbie has; cornering him in the library or dragging him out to the courtyard. He spends most of his evenings in the Slytherin common room in the week leading up to Halloween, going over ideas and plans. Half his time there is spent on the plan, the other half discussing Glanni’s outfit and nattering.

The day of Halloween he and Glanni meet at the Slytherin dorms to get ready for the feast. They spend half an hour on hair – mostly Robbie’s, since Glanni’s hair is so short he only has to dry and brush it and it’s done. Robbie’s doesn’t take too long wither, just a little styling to make the front into a little quiff. Robbie keeps his hair a bit longer than his brother. Not by much, but enough that his natural curls can become visible if he doesn’t do something about them. Usually he just wets his hair a bit in the morning and brushes the curls out, drying everything with magic to keep it from curling back. He usually ends up with a bit of a kink returning by the very end of the day but he can live with that. Tonight though, he can afford to go a little fancier, so he does. Without either of them knowing any actual ‘no-curl’ spells though, they’d just go with a little old fashioned hair gel.

Robbie’s just going to be wearing his normal robes, but he will also be wearing some of Glanni’s glitter eyeliner and some fake fangs – which no one will really see, but he thinks are pretty cool.

Glanni, however, is going the whole hog. He still can’t do anything about the tie so he’s just elected no to wear it, instead going open collar with a black shirt which he’s tucked into a pair of sleek black pants; nicer than his normal school trousers and, Robbie notes, a bit tighter too. His belt is black leather with a silver buckle. He’s also picked out a _very_ stylish pair of boots. Calf length and made of shiny black leather, they have little silver buckles up the sides and a sharp, but rounded toe. They’re one inch platforms, with a two-inch total heel. Chunkier than a stiletto, but not as thick as some of the combat boots Glanni also loves. Actually, as a whole the boots are pretty much an exact halfway between the two, Robbie thinks. They’re _awesome_.

Still, it’s essentially just a shirt, pants and belt and some shoes. The outfit is actually relatively simple and easy to put on, it’s the makeup that takes time. Robbie makes sure everything’s ready for the plan whilst Glanni puts on his base stuff, sat at the big vanity thing he’s managed to set up in his room. He doesn’t need much concealer or anything, but he wants a flawless look tonight. Still, what is applied is very light. Any contouring is purple, which is unusual for most but what works for Glanni – he pulls it off better than any other colour – and is mainly applied to his cheekbones. He’s not going for any particular creature, (mostly because it’s probably offensive but mainly because he just wants to dress up,) but the purple immediately gives Robbie ‘vampire’ vibes, which whilst unintentional is good because Glanni has some fangs to put in too.

When his base is done, Glanni calls Robbie over. He sits on the end of the bed whilst Glanni applies a light pink eyeshadow around the very edges of his eyes and then packs on a bright, deep pink for the main colour. Robbie is given the task to make sure everything is even, that nothings patchy and that both sides look equal. It’s all perfect, as usual, but for tonight Glanni wants a second opinion just in case. A matching shimmer is added on top of the eyeshadow, which flashes with a lighter pinky-purple iridescence when the light hits it.

“How we doing?” Glanni asks when he’s finished with the shimmer, turning to let Robbie inspect him closer up.

“Perfectly,” Robbie tells him truthfully, and Glanni nods, smiling, and turns back to the mirror.

He picks up his favourite glitter liner and uncaps it, then starts drawing a slim line from the corner of his eye up towards the end of his eyebrow at a sharp angle. “So how’s the sporty-stalker then,” he says suddenly and Robbie nearly falls off the bed.

“Shut up,” he huffs, crossing his arms. He sees Glanni smirk in the mirror as he starts filling in the wing of that eye. “It’s not funny,” Robbie tells him. “He’s everywhere, I can’t get rid of him.”

“I still don’t get what the problem is,” Glanni drawls, amused.

“He’s just so – so _nice_.” Robbie says, disgusted.

Glanni pauses in his wing-drawing for a second and raises one perfect eyebrow at him. “…You’re complaining about someone being nice to you.”

“No– yes– it’s just _weird,_ alright. I’ve barely said two words to him – heck, the first time we spoke I outright rejected his tutor request – but he treats me like we’re friends?” This is so frustrating. “Like, if I’d’ve asked some random kid I didn’t know to tutor me and they said no, _I_ wouldn’t say hi to them in the corridors like we were old pals, no way.”

“He’s just being nice?” Glanni offers, “some people are like that, you know.”

“I know,” Robbie sighs. “It’s just… weird. He’s so happy all the time.”

“You want him to be sad?”

“No!” Robbie shouts, then flops backwards onto the bed, pressing his palms over his eyes and rubbing. “Ugh – I don’t know, it’s just… blinding. I don’t understand how he’s so happy when he’s doing so bad in class.”

Glanni pauses his makeup. “He is?”

Robbie blushes. “W– well, a bit, yeah. He’s alright in some of his classes, but only for the practical work. He’s barely passing the written work, doesn’t matter what class he’s in or if he’s any good at it. I can’t figure him out.” He sits up from the bed, patting a hand over the back of his head to make sure he hasn’t messed his hair up. “He’s not as bad as _me_ , I- I think it’s his English. He’s Icelandic too, I’ve worked _that_ out. I’m guessing he learnt English later than we did.”

“Might be,” Glanni shrugs, finishing the wing on his other eye. “We learnt as we were growing up.”

Robbie hums vaguely in response. “I just… his written work is bringing the rest of his grades down quite a lot, but he’s still so _happy_. I don’t get it. My written stuff is bringing my practical grades down no matter what I do and I _hate_ it! He just takes his paper back and smiles!” Robbie stands from the bed and starts pacing. “And the teachers! They do the same, they just give him back his essays and pat him on the back like ‘oh, yeah, you failed but that’s okay, that’s fine! You keep being bad, kid, as long as you’re trying your best that’s a-okay! Oh– what’s that Robbie? Another P? you’re gonna have to do better than that, can’t have _you_ failing!’” Tears roll down Robbie’s cheeks as he paces around the bed, his hands shaking violently at his sides. “‘You’re just not trying h– hard enough, you’re just lazy and you’re not a– applying yourself. You’re a R– Ravenclaw, a– _act_ like it!’”

By this point Robbie is outright sobbing, and Glanni stands from his chair to scoop his little brother into his arms. Robbie immediately burrows into the comfort his brother was providing, crying into Glanni’s shirt.

“Hey, hey,” Glanni says, stroking a hand down Robbie’s back. “Robbie, calm down okay. It’s alright. It’s all alright little Robin,” he mutters soothingly into Robbie’s hair, “It’s all gonna be okay.”

He sits them both down on the bed, Robbie half in Glanni’s lap as he stays cocooned in his brother’s arms. Glanni rocks them slowly back and forth, stroking the back of Robbie’s hair and humming. Eventually, Robbie stops crying as hard and his tears lessen to sniffles and the occasional snort against Glanni’s chest. When he calms down, Glanni gently pulls back so he and take Robbie’s face in his palms and wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Oh little Robin,” Glanni sighs. “Look, sweetheart, I’m not gonna lie to you. Favouritism is a thing and it happens to all the teachers, even if they try to prevent it, and it’s _shit_. And it _is_ unfair.” He strokes Robbie’s cheek with his thumb. “I know you probably won’t want to hear this, but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.”

Robbie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and he breaks out of Glanni’s hold to scrub his sleeve against the wetness on his cheek. “W- what?”

“If it’s his English then they’re not gonna do anything about it because that _is_ the best he can do at this point. They can either focus on his English, which means less time learning the knowledge that the curriculum requires for him to pass his classes, or they can let him carry on as he is and focus on his education. They can help him a little bit, but trying to teach him an entire second language as well as the stuff he needs to learn in his lessons might just be putting too much pressure on him. If he’s passing or doing just well enough, they’ll let him be.”

What Glanni is saying makes a lot of sense. Robbie understands better now, but he still doesn’t really like Sportacus getting bad grades like he does, but being able to take it when Robbie can’t.

“I just don’t get how _happy_ he is,” he whispers.

Glanni gives him a _look_.

“What?” Robbie asks, confused.

“Well, I mean he _might_ be fine with it,” Glanni shrugs nonchalantly, his shimmery eyes roving casually around the room. “English is hard to learn and it is a lot of work to do alongside school work, so if he’s passing without having to try and learn a whole language to do it then, yeah, I’d be happy about that too.” He suddenly turns back to look Robbie in the eye again. “But he _did_ ask for help.”

That… was true. He _did_ ask for help. But those were in the classes he really _was_ failing at. Both his written _and_ practical work were awful in Transfiguration and Charms. He was fine with his progress in his other classes.

Wasn’t he?

Robbie falls silent, thinking hard and Glanni seems to take that as a signal to pull away from the conversation. He drags the chair that’s in front of the vanity over to where Glanni sits on the bed and gently pushes Robbie towards it. “Come on, your turn now.”

“But you’re not done!” Robbie protests, even though he’s already starting to sit in the chair. In truth, he’s glad for the change. Things had been getting pretty heavy for a moment there.

Glanni waves his complaints off anyway, grabbing some wipes and his glitter liner form off the vanity and perching on the end of the bed. He gently wipes the tears from Robbie’s face and even the snot from his nose – that’s true brotherly love right there, Robbie thinks.

When his face is clean and dry, if a little red still, Glanni uncaps the eyeliner and gets to work.

Robbie still can’t do eyeliner that well yet, he’s practicing, but tonight need to be perfect. Plus, he’s only twelve, he doesn’t need a lot. He wants it thin, barely there; Glanni can do it like that but Robbie can only do chunkier lines. A few minutes and Glanni’s done. The eyeliner is thin, but still sparkles under then light if you catch it right, and each eye has a very sort, thin wing.

“Do you want mascara?” his brother asks, holding up the tube.

Robbie thinks for a moment, then nods. “A little bit.”

Glanni nods and carefully brushes the wand over Robbie’s lashes. He does it very lightly to keep a minimal amount of product on. Better to have too little and go over it again than have too much.

Robbie thinks he looks very nice when he’s done, turning his head to admire the way the eyeliner glitters. He stands and let’s Glanni have his seat back, since his brother still has more to do yet – his _own_ mascara, first of all. He puts on a few coats, thicker than the ones he had put on Robbie. He also runs the mascara wand through his eyebrows a bit, after scraping most of the actual mascara. Glanni’s eyebrows are thick enough that he doesn’t need to fill them in at all, and they have a distinctive enough shape that all he has to do is just… tidy them slightly.

Whilst Glanni’s finishing the rest of his makeup, Robbie turns back to his own face to deal with his teeth. The fangs his brother has found for them are like little clip-y things, and Robbie’s fascinated with them. He likes wearing them – having worn them before to see if he can deal with them. He can; very, _very_ well. Even when eating, though he has to make sure to use a sticking charm if he’s going to do that.

He clips them on over his top canine teeth, wondering if he should wear them more often. Perhaps during the day. _‘Someone could see them though,’_ he thinks, running his tongue over the fangs in the mirror.

Oh well, they already think he’s weird, why not have fun with it?

He cast’s his sticking charm and turns to see that Glanni has already done the same, his own fangs gleaming in his mouth as he grins at Robbie.

“ _Wicked_ ,” Glanni cackles.

They smile toothily at each other, and Robbie thinks they look pretty evil. Evil and cool.

Nice.

Glanni then turns back to the mirror to put his lipstick on. It’s only a shade darker than the actual colour of his lips, so for Glanni, who favours only the most outrageous of colours, its practically like he’s not wearing any at all.

After that, the last step is simply to apply glitter, which he does liberally and without shame, all over his cheekbones and on the inner edge of his eyeshadow.

The glitter is, of course, pink.

After the final checks are done with their faces, they put on the last of their clothes. Robbie puts his shoes and outer robe back on and fixes his tie whilst Glanni puts on his boots. They make him even taller than he is now, and he tower’s over Robbie. Robbie had had a bit of a growth spurt over the summer, but he’s still nowhere near Glanni’s height, and he’s certainly nowhere near now that Glanni’s got those damn boots on.

Still, he looks fabulous in them, and he knows it too.

The very last thing for Glanni to put on, is his cape. It’s a proper, actual cape and Robbie loves it, has done from the moment Glanni showed him it. It’s made of black velvet that has “the perfect swish,” according to Glanni, and Robbie agrees. It also has very thin silver threads sewn through it to look like cobwebs. Not the average, uniform Halloween-pattern cobwebs, no, these ones look like _real_ spider’s webs, the shimmery threads are so thin they look like gossamer and look like they’ve been draped over the fabric instead of sewn into it, tiny jewels scattered throughout that look like beads of dew.

Robbie helps Glanni put his cape on, lifting it around his shoulders as Glanni stoops down and putting the chain clasp on. Its shaped like a little snake, which Robbie finds cute.

They look in the mirror one last time to check for anything out of place, then check each other over to make doubly sure, then head for the door.

When Glanni starts to leave his bedroom, the cloak shifts and the silver cobwebs seem pink under the candlelight and it makes Robbie simile, because of _course_.

 

* * *

 

 

Glanni had wanted to turn up to the feast just a little late to make all the attention on him but Robbie had refused, since they would be walking in together.

They end up walking in at the same time as the other students – though still towards the end of the group – and though many heads do turn, the hustle and bustle of people still moving around them to find seats and friends makes Robbie feel a bit better, since it’s better than being outright stared at by the entire student body as they walk in on their own. Robbie slinks quietly down to the middle of his table but Glanni strides down the centre of the hall, boots clicking on the marble floor and his cape swishing. All the candlelight catches on his glitter and makes it sparkle. He smiles, revealing his fangs, and Robbie hears some quiet gasps coming from the tables. Glanni drinks it all in.

Glanni takes his place near the middle of the Slytherin table and sits down. Some of his friends compliment him on his costume, others merely shake their heads, fully aware that Glanni is a complete drama queen and seeing him meet their expectations. Glanni laughs at them, but it’s a nice laugh. A friendly one.

After the rest of the students arrive and settle down, the headmaster gives a short speech to welcome them. It included a small bit about the history of Halloween and why the holiday is so important to Hogwarts. It’s pretty much the same as last year, but Robbie doesn’t mind. It’s only short and it’s still interesting. Halloween really is an important holiday to wizards, so even though all he wants to do is see the food appear, he sits back and listens with no complaints.

After the headmaster is done he wishes them a happy Halloween and waves his wand and the food arrives, appearing on the golden platters.

Robbie is overjoyed; they _have_ done the jelly again, Halloween being one time where the main courses and puddings come out at the same time. In an effort to be reasonably good, he takes a small amount of Yorkshire pudding, mash and gravy and some honeyed carrots and quickly devours that. There. That was his good effort. Now, he piles candy and cake onto his empty plate, spooning spider strewn jelly onto the majority of the plate, thoroughly enjoying the look of horror on his housemates faces.

He’s reaching for some ice cream when one of the girls in Gryffindor screams.

Robbie looks up – as does everyone else – towards the sound, when someone from Slytherin also screams, climbing up to stand on the bench. It’s like a tennis match, as everyone keeps looking back and forth between screaming students as someone from Hufflepuff stands, then another from Gryffindor, then a Ravenclaw, all pointing to the floor. Robbie looks down, already knowing what he’s going to see.

There is white smoke curling lazily out from under the benches of the house tables, spreading slowly across the floor. The first phase of Glanni’s plan, though he hadn’t thought it would garner such a fright. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the teachers start to crane their necks to see what’s going on. One of them just puts their head in their hands.

Several Puffskeins covered in pink and purple glitter – non-toxic, Glanni had made sure; he wasn’t _evil_ – are released from who knows where, causing screams of fear and delight amongst the students. Robbie laughs as one comes up to snuggle against his leg. He’s not a big fan of the things, but they’re pretty harmless and they currently look hilarious covered in glitter, so he picks it up and lets it sit on his lap. There are lots of them, flooding into the hall. The teachers start to stand at this point, already attempting to corral the puffs and get them out of the hall. This is especially hard with all the fog, and even worse when snakes start pouring into the room. The snakes aren’t actually _visible_ , because of all the fog – and aren’t even real snakes; just a bunch of transfigured shoelaces – but the general hissing and long thin shapes sliding over people’s feet is enough for people to guess at.

When the teachers notice what else is in the hall they start trying to catch the snakes, but when they get close enough, the animals just transform back into shoelaces. Glanni had wanted them to explode in a shower of glitter, but they couldn’t find a way to do it. Oh well.

When the teachers have gotten some semblance of order concerning the animals, everyone finally starts to relax.

This is a mistake.

Whilst everyone is busy letting their guards down and the teachers are herding the remaining Puffskeins and collecting shoelaces, no one is expecting the firecrackers that start whizzing up to the ceiling. Everyone jumps, students screaming and the teaches losing what little control over the Puffskeins they had as the crackers whizzed around the room and start exploding, sending glitter raining down on everyone.

(It was actually edible glitter, which they’d thought they’d better include since it was going to be raining down on all the food.)

Robbie just watches the pandemonium, sharing a matching fanged grin with Glanni as he starts on a bowl of now-glittery ice cream.

It’s a really, _really_ good Halloween.


	4. 2nd Year, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Halloween comes Christmas. Things might possibly be looking up for Robbie, though it's a bit of a bumpy ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the NSP reference ;)

A couple of days after the beautiful success that was Halloween, the school is still talking about it. Everyone knows it was Glanni – the glitter and the snakes not really leaving much room for doubt – but the teachers don’t have any _evidence_ and therefore can’t punish him. This means Glanni is strutting around the castle like the cat who got the cream.

A couple of people suspect that Robbie had something to do with it too, but like the teachers, they don’t have any proof.

It’s all got him in a bit of a decent mood for once. Robbie’s got to admit that there’s a spring in his step too – though it’s not quite Glanni’s patent strut – as he heads towards Herbology, a spring that quickly disappears when he sees a familiar Hufflepuff bounding towards him. Great.

“Hello Robbie!” Sportacus says, slowing down slightly as he nears. “I liked your makeup at the feast. I thought it was very nice.”

Oh. Robbie… wasn’t expecting that. During the chaos of the feast he hadn’t actually thought anyone had noticed it.

“See you soon!” Sportacus chirrups, hurrying off into the other direction.

Robbie scowls. At least he hadn’t needed to think of a reply, but still. ‘See you soon.’ That’s a bit of assumption.

 

* * *

 

 

Halloween is the last real break that Robbie gets before Christmas. Seeing as he’s not old enough to go on the Hogsmeade trips he’s finding Christmas shopping very difficult this year. It hadn’t been as bad last year because he’d manage to find something much earlier in the year as a fluke, whilst shopping for his school supplies. He’d stowed it away and then wrapped it when he and Glanni had gone home for Christmas break. This time he doesn’t have that option.

Seeing as he doesn’t have the option to just go out and browse shops until he comes across something weird and random and crazy that he knows Glanni will love, he has to figure something else out.

Eventually he decides to get Glanni something from Zonko’s Joke Shop and something from Honeydukes. He can’t get any of them himself, but that’s alright. IT takes him almost a week of hard thinking, but he figures something out.

A week and a half before the final Hogsmeade trip of the year, Robbie pens a short letter to one of Glanni’s friends. He sees it arrive by owl – one of the schools own – at breakfast the next day, dropping onto the half-finished plate of a blonde-haired girl a few seats down from Glanni himself. She gives the letter a bit of an odd look, but no one else seems to pay it any attention, too busy with their breakfast and their own mail.

Robbie sees her sneak a glance over to him once she’s read the letter and he catches her eye, but doesn’t make any other move to acknowledge her. He doesn’t want to give himself away to anyone else.

She folds the letter and tucks it into her robes and Robbie turns back to his heavily-sugared cereal.

That break, she meets him out by the courtyard, in one of the more secluded little alcoves. He knows Glanni is over by the fountains, taking advantage of the light snow to fling snowballs at people, so they won’t be seen.

“What you after, pipsqueak?” She asks, sliding into the empty space beside him. She’s a little suspicious, he can tell, but she doesn’t seem to mean it mean-naturedly.

“Christmas shopping,” he blurts, fists clenched at his sides. He’s never met this girl before, though he’s seen her around Glanni and around the Slytherin common room plenty of times. He’s not sure how to talk to her. “I can’t get anything for Glanni in the castle and I’m not old enough to go to Hogsmeade.”

She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him encouragingly.

“I was um, I was wondering if you could go to Honeydukes and Zonko’s on your next Hogsmeade trip and ah- get some things on my behalf?” he asks hesitantly, hands shaking a bit. “I have the money! You won’t have to spend anything yourself – and, and I have an extra Galleon for you as a thank you.”

“That’s it?” She seems surprised.

“I– if that’s not enough then I can–”

“What! No no,” she laughs, smiling, “not the money part kid, that’s real sweet of you actually, I just thought that from your note… well I thought you were after help to pull a prank on him or something.” She snorts, and the sound makes Robbie grin.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future, if that’s alright, but no, not this time.”

She laughs again. “See that you do, kid. But yeah, I’ll happily go shopping for ya, especially if there’s a galleons worth of Ice Mice in it for me. Do you know what you want me to get?”

“Oh, yes!” Robbie reaches into his pocket excitedly. He hadn’t thought it’d be this easy to be honest, but he’s glad it was. He pulls out a small list of sweets he’d written and a pouch of money and hands them over. “I have a list.”

“Nice,” she says, quickly skimming over it and taking a peak in the pouch to see if there’ll be enough to cover everything.

There will be, Robbie knows, and soon enough she nods and closes the pouch again, sticking out her hand.

“You got yourself a deal, pipsqueak,” she says, grinning. The tip of her tongue sticks out of the little gap in her two front teeth.

Robbie hesitantly takes her hand and she shakes it firmly. He wasn’t expecting the handshake, but it’s not too bad. He’s smiling by the end of it.

“I’ll bring everything to you the day after the trip, alright? I figure your brother’s probably gonna wanna speak to you straight after so if I come the day after he won’t catch us.” She winks at him.

“Excellent thinking,” he smiles.

“Cool,” she nods, tucking the pouch and the it’s in the pocket of her robes. “I’ll see ya then, kid – and don’t worry; mum’s the word on this.”

“Thank you,” he tells her, “for everything. It was really nice of you to help.”

“S’alright,” she shrugs, “you’re a sweet kid, and you and your brother love each other. Plus, this was a smart plan – very Ravenclaw,” she chuckles, “but a little Slytherin too, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

Robbie inhales sharply, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m happy to help. You ever need help again, you come and get me alright? The name’s Molly by the way; Molly Jenkins.”

Robbie nods and stutters out a “thank you.” He doesn’t trust himself to say much more than that.

She leaves with a smile – she’s so smiley? He doesn’t understand it – and Robbie heads off to find Glanni, a little bemused by what just happened. He really hadn’t expected it to be that easy, and she was so nice. Why can’t the people in his own house be like that?

He finds the aftermath of Glanni before he finds _actual_ Glanni; scattered footprints and piles of snow and crumpled students. He’s clearly in the middle of a war zone and crouches down, throwing up a thin shield. It wobbles a bit, and it’s clearly visible, making him look a bit blue, but it should hold up against one snowball. Not _well_ , but he won’t get knocked of his feet if he does get hit – Glanni pulls _no_ punches when it comes to snowball fights.

Thankfully Glanni spots him and pops up from behind the fountain, signalling a time out with his hands. “Alright everyone,” he calls, “piss off! Robbie’s here.”

Robbie goes over and asks him for a favour similar to the one he asked Molly, asking Glanni to get something for his parents on his behalf the next time he goes to Hogsmeade.

“Sure thing little brother,” Glanni smiles, ruffling Robbie’s hair with a gloved hand. “I’ll make sure to pick something you’d get ‘em.”

Suddenly Molly appears next to them. Robbie’s stomach turns to ice – is she going to say something?

“Alright _lads_ ,” she greets, smiling. This one looks distinctly sinister though and Robbie doesn’t like it.

She slides a hand around Glanni’s shoulder and the older Glæpur looks at her with clear suspicion.

“How are things, here, eh?” she asks. “We all having a good time?”

“Molly what–” Glanni breaks off as Molly grabs him by the hair and shoves his face into the handful of snow that she brings out from behind her back. Glanni screams into her snow covered-palm, and breaks free going for Molly’s ankles. She shrieks with laughter, hiding behind Robbie who’s doubled over cackling and snorting.

“You little shit!” Glanni shouts, sliding in the snow.

Molly takes off across the courtyard, Glanni in hot pursuit. As she disappears from view, she turns back and winks at Robbie again.

Robbie heads back into the castle still giggling.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t see Sportacus as much near Christmas – but then again, he doesn’t see as much of anybody. There are piles and piles of Christmas homework being set for everyone and he tries to get as good a head start on it as possible, sequestering himself in the Library. God, Robbie feels sorry for those in higher years who have more and do have it harder. He wants to tear his hair out. This is going to be _hell_ over the holidays and he knows it.

He finds himself wondering if Sportacus is staying for the holidays, and squashes the thought. He doesn’t care.

 

* * *

 

 

The day after the last Hogsmeade trip, he gets a letter during breakfast from Molly, telling him to meet her outside the Astronomy Tower to “deliver the goods”.

He does, and she hands him everything he asked for. They chat for a couple of minutes about the upcoming holidays and what they’re going to do. Molly says her that her Mum’s taking her fishing, which she’s looking forward to – it’s a weird Christmas tradition they’ve had since she was ten apparently – and playing basketball with her brother. Robbie says he’s looking forward to seeing his parents and that he’s going to be baking and just generally being a little shit with Glanni. His nose twitches from excitement a couple of times but she doesn’t even seem to notice.

When they part ways, she hands him a couple of chocolate frogs. He practically vibrates on the spot and she laughs and nudges his shoulder.

He saves them until the last day of school, eating them on the train ride back home.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie spends the first week back home barely sleeping, working on all his homework so that he can enjoy the rest of his Christmas without it looming over his head. Glanni gives him a bit of a worried look on day three, but otherwise lets him do his thing without interfering. He gets everything done and then spends an entire day just sleeping, only waking to go to the bathroom or re-fill his body with sugar.

After he wakes up he feels so much better and comes bounding down the stairs, demanding that Glanni gives him back his favourite wrench – which he stole whilst Robbie was asleep. They tussle a little bit but Robbie eventually gets the wrench back and they break apart ruffled and smiling.

After that, Christmas in the Glæpur household goes back to its usual wonderfulness. The whole house is always filled with the small of baking, and every day there’s a new treat for Glanni and Robbie to demolish. His mother makes gingerbread and sugar cookies, his Pabbi makes coconut macaroons and a trifle, Glanni makes peppermint creams (which he puts little nipples on, a fact that does not escape Robbie’s notice) and candycanes and glass candy, and Robbie makes brownies and cake and cupcakes – which he lets Glanni decorate. Every day there’s something new.

He listens to his Pabbi play slow jazz on his record player, and his Mamma's faster stuff on the radio. He dances in the kitchen and sings show tunes with Glanni as they tap in clicky shoes across the tiles, singing into batter-covered spoons.

It inspires him to play a bit of music again. He hasn’t played anything since summer, and he doesn’t get the opportunity to _listen_ to anything at Hogwarts, never-mind _play_ anything. His instruments are right where he left them in the family music room. He has to retune his violin, but everything else is still in good condition.

He’s been thinking up some songs whilst at Hogwarts, when he gets bored or when he can’t sleep, scribbling down notes or humming until he perfects the tune and it becomes second nature. He decides to try some of them out, pleased when he only needs to tweak them slightly to get them to translate from his head to the instrument. Glanni joins him halfway through his third piece, drawn by the sound. He sits by the window and reads whilst Robbie plays. Its peaceful.

He spends a lot of time in his room, though not enough that he misses spending time with his family. He’s had a lot of ideas over the first term of his second year, drawing them out on scraps of parchment. He’s tidied them all up into a drawer and has stacked them by ease of build; the bigger projects can wait ‘til the summer holidays. He loves inventing and he’s never felt more at home than when he’s inventing. Surrounded by scraps of metal, nuts and bolts and tools of all kinds, streaks of grease and tiny scratch marks on his wrists and oil staining his fingers, the smell of the soldering iron mixing with the smell of oil and grease and metal.

He’s missed it so much.

He thinks Glanni also missed it, because when he looks into Robbie’s room and sees him elbow deep in an old toaster, he smiles so warmly.

He’s not smiling when Robbie sets the toaster – with added teeth – on him when he’s fresh out the shower the next morning.

 

* * *

 

 

On Christmas morning they all sit around the tree and pass each other bags of presents whilst chewing on candycanes. He can hear Glanni crunching on some of his glass candy from all the way across the room.

Glanni is ecstatic about the little hamper Robbie put together for him; a bassinet full of dungbombs and trick wands, whoopee cushions and screaming cushions, fake spiders and snakes, some bottles of fake blood, a small pad of and howler paper and a set of envelopes, two pairs of extendable ears, and a portable swamp. The sweets are in there too; some fudge and toffee cubes, pink coconut ice, liquorice wands, sugar quills, chocolate frogs and bats, a massive bag of acid pops, exploding bon-bons, and a whole jar of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. He launches himself across the room to hug his brother and completely takes Robbie out, the both of them falling to the floor shrieking with laughter as Glanni tries to noogie Robbie relentlessly and press wet, sloppy kisses all over his face.

Once they finally calm down and get to opening the rest of their presents, Robbie goes for Glanni’s. He gets an entire basket of sugar quills, a massive pad of blueprint parchment and a weird thing that looks like a multicolour plastic rope.

“That’s a tangle,” Glanni tells him when he sees what Robbie’s unwrapped. “I found it in town. You can fiddle with it and mess it around in your hand, I think. It might be useful. I sewed a little loop into the insides of all your sleeves whilst you were asleep,” Glanni says, like that’s not a creepy thing to say at all. With Glanni though, it actually isn’t, really. “You can clip that through them so you can keep it up your sleeve.”

Curious, Robbie takes it out of the packaging. It’s made up of green and blue and purple plastic segments that are kind of shaped like macaroni pasta, and in a closed loop. He finds out that the segments come apart with enough force and can click back together. He keeps it closed for now and wraps it around his fingers, rolling it around and over them with his palm. He plays with it for a full five minutes without even realising, until his Mamma nudges him and suggests opening the rest of his presents. It’s perfect.

He doesn’t say anything to Glanni yet, pulling the rest of his presents towards him. He’ll thank Glanni later, in private, because he knows he’s going to cry. Glanni knows how useful something like this is going to be, and how much means to him.

The rest of the presents from his brother are some new screws and some mechanical parts he’d been after, which is good. He’ll be able to finish a couple of things with those over the rest of the holidays.

One of Glanni’s presents is wrapped weird though. All of the presents from his brother are wrapped in purple paper, because Glanni know it’s his favourite colour. (Likewise, Robbie has wrapped all his presents for Glanni in pink.) This one is wrapped in dark blue paper with yellow stars on it. It’s a bit childish to be honest, but he likes it. He figures that it must be Glanni though because there’s orange ribbon around it; and though, since not many people know that that’s Robbie’s second favourite colour. Maybe he just ran out of purple paper, or he wanted to throw him off the scent.

He opens this one last, with a mixture of anticipation and confusion and is incredibly pleased with what he finds. It’s a long, thick purple woollen scarf. It looks hand knitted, but Robbie can’t quite tell – sometimes that’s what stores go for; it’s a ‘look’.

He smiles and immediately puts it on. He’s been complaining about his current scarf for weeks, since it finally started showing signs of kicking the bucket. Glanni’d always said that Robbie could just knit a new one himself, but Robbie couldn’t be bothered, so he’d kept complaining in the hopes that Glanni would get the hint and get him one for Christmas.

Clearly the complaining worked, and Robbie is very happy with the result.

 

* * *

 

 

They always have a big Christmas dinner, and it’s the only time Robbie and Glanni actively pile their plates with vegetables because everything’s coated in glaze or honey and is therefore candied within an inch of its life. None of them are really fond of turkey so they roast a duck instead, and a rack of lamb.

The main event, of course, is the Christmas pudding. It’s just the four of them but that thing is always big enough for at least twelve, and it’s always on fire. This is the first year that Glanni is allowed to do the honours, and he sets the table cloth on fire too.

The leftovers fuel’s Glanni’s mischief midnight snacks and Robbie’s insomnia sandwiches for the next two weeks. Sometimes they meet in the middle at three in the morning and compete to make the best sandwich, talking about random things until they’re tired enough to go back to sleep.

Glanni sleeps much better and more often than Robbie does, but he still has his bad nights. On more than one occasion, Glanni’s thoughts get the best of him and Robbie has to sneak into his bed whilst Glanni cries silently. It only happens once this Christmas; they make sandwiches at half three, steal cookies at half five and watch the sun rise together. Robbie doesn’t comment on the smudged makeup around his eyes or the deep, dark circles it doesn’t cover up.

 

* * *

 

 

Coming back to school after Christmas is such a shock to Robbie’s system that it makes him feel sick. Being back at Hogwarts after he’s just re-adjusted to being at home is bad enough, but when he gets handed back all that Christmas homework? It wrecks him.

He’s distraught. It’s almost midnight and he knows he shouldn’t be out of the dorms after hours but he just cannot stay in there. He’ll break down and he knows it, and he refuses to break where someone can see him. He can’t even go to Glanni now, no matter how much he wants to. He won’t be able to sneak through the castle at this hour, it’s still too early. It’s got to be at _least_ after one in the morning before he can consider it. Still, there’s less chance of a teacher finding him here than a dormmate walking down and finding him freaking out in the middle of the common room.

He’s trying to be quiet, he really is, but he’s just so upset. Humming isn’t working, so he’s just clicking his tongue against his teeth over and over again in an effort to try and get some rage out, snarling to himself every now and then.

Not a single essay had come back with anything even remotely redeemable on it. Everything was a _mess_. Apparently, his teachers have figured that it’s time for Robbie to grow up and start trying and aren’t pulling any punches – which he hadn’t been aware they _were_ doing. His previous ‘laxness’ with writing won’t stand, Now, if it isn’t written reasonably perfectly then it’s an automatic fail, no matter what the content is like. Therefore, almost a week of solid, non-stop work is completely inadmissible even though it is accurate, correct and worthy of E’s at the very least. Instead, every piece of parchment has a bright red ‘T’ practically etched into the top. It’s awful. It’s _horrible_.

He’s crying. He’s going to throw up.

He bites down on his sleeve, sobbing. He’s going to fail. Can a student be so bad at their work they kick you out? Robbie doesn’t know, but he’s deathly afraid that he’s going to find out.

He paces outside, snarling and crying and hiccupping. He tries to calm himself down, but it doesn’t work. He just keeps spiralling down the same thought path.

He just wants to go home. He wants to go home, away from Hogwarts and all the stupid people around him who don’t understand how smart he his. Away from the teaches and the work and the students whispering. He just wanted to learn, that’s all he wanted. To earn new things and get even smarter, but instead, all he wants now is to go home and play with his mechanic and listen to his Pabbi’s music and never see another piece of parchment again.

That all he wants, that’s all he wants, that all he wants.

He makes a sharp turn at the end of the corridor, doubling back to continue his pacing and skittering to a halt. There’s a door there that wasn’t there before.

He’s _sure_ it wasn’t there before and he looks at it, face scrunched up in confusion. _‘That’s really weird,_ ’ he thinks. Then again, this is the castle with moving staircases so he doesn’t put it past it to have moving doors as well. It’s probably just another classroom or something. Actually, that could be useful right now. He’ll probably get caught if he stays out here any longer, and it’d be nice to sit on a chair whilst he cries instead of plonking himself down on the castle floor. Maybe he can find some parchment and a quill and draw, sketch out some ideas. It’s not his blueprint paper at home, but it might help calm him down a bit.

He pushes open the door and walks in, gasping.

This is _not_ a classroom.

Candles flare to life when he walks in, lighting up the room. It’s about the size of the Ravenclaw common room and stone shelves cover three of the walls almost all the way up to the ceiling, so the hundreds of sconces are crammed into the tiny strip of space below the ceiling where they don’t reach.

Robbie sobs as he catches sight of what’s in the middle of the room though – his favourite chair; orange and fluffy and perfect. He has no idea how it’s here and not at home, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care at all, practically diving onto it and burying his face in the comforting fur and crying.

After a while he sits back up and looks around the rest of the room a bit more. The chair itself is sat on a round orange rug which he thinks is nice, and next to it is a little table. The table has a gramophone on it, and a stack of records underneath it and he sets it up immediately, putting on the first record he pulls out – which is something he _knows_ his Pabbi has.

He settles into the chair and lets the music wash over him for a minute before continuing his exploration.

At the end of the room, behind the chair, is a big bench, several little cubby holes and shelves built underneath it. There are a couple of them on the wall above the bench as well, all varying shapes and sizes, all squished to one end. The rest of the wall has what looks like a huge cork board above it.

He gets up to investigate the shelves, humming along to the familiar music.

The first wall shelf is filled with scrap metal or all shapes and sizes; big sheets and pieces at the bottom, medium ones in boxes in the middle and smaller ones at the top. The second set has nuts and bolts and connectors in loads of little drawers in the middle of it upwards, the bottom being for storage, he guesses since there’s noting there. The third shelf is just tools from the middle up. A nice line of snappers and screwdrivers at eye level, all in size order. Bigger tools are at the bottom of the shelf, and the rest is again empty, probably for storage, as is the top of the shelf.

The bench at the back is metal too, which is much easier to work on than wood, he’s always found.

There’s a tall box – for big blueprints, he guesses, and above that is a shelf filled with stacks of different sized parchment, a little hanging shelf underneath with different coloured inks and quills.

He pulls a piece out of the stack, grabs a quill and some ink, as well as one of the big scrap pieces of metal to lean on, settles in the chair and begins to draw as he listens to music.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t leave the room until almost mid-morning the next day.

He’s covered in grease and oil and his hairs a mess and his robes are a mess and the circles under his eyes are so dark it looks like makeup but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t _care_. He’s so happy right now, and he collapses into bed without even taking a shower, sleeping through the rest of his classes with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

 

Almost two months later and Robbie is… almost happy. He’s coping.

The discovery of the Inventing Room has been an actual live-saver. His spends about half his time in there now, instead of constantly holing himself away in the library to work. He still goes there too, of course, when he needs books or information, but he’s also started doing some of his essays in the Inventing Room too. Not all of them; this is a place to relax and de-stress, not work himself up by getting frustrating over homework, but sometimes he wants to work on things privately and whilst the library is nice and comfortable it’s just nice to be somewhere on his own, somewhere that’s _his_.

The rest of the time when he’s here though he sticks to inventing, drawing blueprints and bashing at metal and trying to jimmy and jigsaw parts together whilst he listens to music on the gramophone. He sings and – carefully – dances whilst he works, feeling more at home than he ever has before in this damn castle.

Sometimes he just sits in his chair and reads, curled up on the cushions with his book up against his knee, flipping pages with one hand and fiddling with his tangle in the other.

Glanni was so right about _that_. That thing is by far the pest present anyone’s ever gotten him. It hardly ever leaves the loop in his sleeve, only removed when Robbie’s alone so he can take it out and play with it. Like with his hands, his overly-long sleeves hide it wonderfully and no one can tell when he’s fiddling with it, even in the middle of lunch or class.

He’s seen Molly a couple of times since he’s come back from the Christmas Holidays too, mostly when he’s gone to see Glanni and his friends have been there as well. They don’t quite treat him like one of the gang, as such, but they do treat him like the leader of the gang’s little brother – which is essentially a slightly gentler version of how they treat Glanni. It’s pretty cute actually, if a little overwhelming sometimes.

Molly always makes a space for him beside her if there isn’t one near Glanni and she always makes sure to talk to him or have a laugh with him. If they see each other in the corridor, she’ll smile and wave, and the next time she went to Hogsmeade after the holidays, she brought him back a couple of chocolate frogs. It’s nice, it’s a bit like having a friend.

It also makes him even more confused about Sportacus’s behaviour, because he’s still doing exactly the same with Robbie that he and Molly do, but he and Sportacus _aren’t_ friends. He and Molly have had a little bit of a bond, first through the favour – where he was so nervous to talk to someone new and too desperate to have someone agree to help him that even if he’d been in the worst of moods he wouldn’t have been able to be mean to her – and then from being around her with Glanni, and subsequent random meetings.

He doesn’t have that with Sportacus; all his interactions with the Hufflepuff have been negative, certainly on his end. That first interaction where he refused to tutor him should’ve made Sportacus stay away from him, but instead the little oddball acts like it never happened and says hello to him like Molly does. When he came back from Christmas, he’d even complimented Robbie’s new scarf when they ran into each other – pretty much literally – in the corridors.

It’s all very confusing.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie is on his way to the library to start his latest Potions essay when Glanni suddenly appears from around a corner and hooks his arm around Robbie’s, who suddenly finds himself walking backwards.

“Glanni what–”

“Shhh!” Glanni hisses, dragging him away from the library at top speed. “We’re going to watch the Quidditch match.”

“Wait _what?_ ” Robbie yanks his arm out of Glanni’s grasp, but his brother only uses the action to turn him around and drag Robbie forwards instead of backwards. “Don’t ask questions!” Glanni orders, slinging his free hand around Robbie’s shoulder and propelling him across the castle.

When they get to the pitch – Robbie only letting Glanni bring him here because he’s frozen in confusion as to _why_ Glanni is bringing him here – Molly appears near the entrance and hands Glanni a coat and scarf that Robbie recognises. It’s one of Glanni’s winter coats; like a peacoat in style, but made of thick black wool with an extra layer of padding in it and a white fur ruff around the collar. Glanni shoves it over Robbie – which, thank God it is _freeing_ out here – and loops the scarf (also Glanni’s; black and sparkly,) around his neck.

Glanni then disappears for a minuet to talk with Molly and some of the other appearing Slytherins whilst Robbie just stands there, feeling like a complete idiot and totally out of place. He has no idea why he’s here and he doesn’t know the first thing about Quidditch, so if they’re actually here to watch the match like Glanni said, he’s not going to enjoy it. At least the jacket’s nice. It’s very heavy, which Robbie likes a lot, and is too big for him, practically drenching him. The fur is comfortable and soft against his face, and it smells like Glanni.

Suddenly, some of the Gryffindor players come by, and Robbie automatically shrinks back despite none of them being anywhere near him. They’re bringing some of the equipment to the pitch it seems, a big chest. He recognises Íþróttaálfurinn as one of them – and apparently, Íþróttaálfurinn recognises him, too. He does a double take when he spots Robbie standing on his own near the entrance to the Slytherin stand and frowns. He has to look away though when the chest is tugged and he nearly loses his balance and he follows the rest of his team-mates to the centre of the pitch.

It severely creeps Robbie out, and he doesn’t want to be here even more. To be fair though, it is suspicious that Glanni Glæpur’s little brother is suddenly attending one of Gryffindor’s Quidditch matches when he’s never done so before. If he were Íþróttaálfurinn, he’d probably be weirded out by Robbie being there too.

Heck, _Robbie_ is weirded out by Robbie being there.

They’re about to open the chest when Glanni careens back around the side of the stand and grabs Robbie’s arm again, dragging him up the Slytherin stand with him.

Robbie just lets it happen, to unsettled to protest. He just wants to be warm and inside, not standing in a crowd of people whilst they scream and cheer around him.

Granted, they aren’t cheering _yet_ , but Robbie knows they’re going to.

He tries to ask Glanni what’s happening again but is shushed once more, too busy wildly looking out over the pitch. He looks so excited. Robbie’s happy for him, but he’s also very confused. He had no idea that Glanni even _liked_ Quidditch. He could appreciate the sneakery and fouling, Robbie guessed, but he didn’t know he actively liked the sport or liked watching it. He had no idea he’s been watching the school matches.

As the players start gathering on the pitch, the crowd starts increasing in volume and Robbie presses closer to Glanni’s side, uncomfortable. Glanni quickly turns to Robbie and cups his face in his hands, muttering something and suddenly everything gets a lot quieter. He can still hear the crowd but everything’s just. _Quieter_. Like someone’s turned the volume down on the world. A Muffliato, he guesses. He also casts a warming charm on Robbie’s hands, which he’s thankful for. That doesn’t stop them tapping double time against his legs though. Glanni takes one of them in his own hand, gripping tightly. Robbie’s other hand keeps on going rapid-fire against his leg but the one clutched in Glanni’s hand slows to a gentle shake every now and then.

When the players rise Glanni whoops, and it’s a bit loud even to Robbie but he’s happy to see his brother happy and simply watches on, bemused.

The game progresses… well? Robbie has no idea. What he does figure out though, is that Gryffindor is playing Hufflepuff, which he didn’t know before. If the yellow Quidditch uniforms didn’t give it away, then the blond mop of curls whizzing around the goal like an over-caffeinated hummingbird certainly did.

 _Ugh_.

He can’t hear the score because of the Muffliato, and Glanni’s random cheers aren’t helping at all. He’d assume the Slytherin’s were cheering for Hufflepuff seeing as they hated Gryffindor, but Glanni does what Glanni wants and Robbie has no idea if Glanni is cheering for Íþró or against him – because, let’s be serious, this is clearly all about Íþró for Glanni.

All in all, Robbie has no idea what’s going on and therefore doesn’t really enjoy the match. His only highlights are when sportacus seemingly gets too eager to save the ball and ends up nearly braining himself on the goal post, and when Glanni wolf-whistles so loudly that it nearly deafens Robbie despite the Muffliato _right_ when Íþró flies by, causing him to nearly fall of his broom. When the Gryffindor looks back up at Glanni in shock, Glanni winks at him.

 _Wow_.

When the match finishes, Glanni prompts Robbie to put his hands over his ears and then when he does so removes the Muffliato. Everything is suddenly very loud again, and he’s grateful for having his hands already up to help block some of it out. He has no idea who won, but the Slytherins seem very excited by the result, as is Glanni. Still, he has no idea what the past hour and a half of his life was even about, and can’t work it out as Glanni drags him back down the Slytherin stand.

By the time they reach the ground, Robbie has given up trying to understand. It’s an hour and a half of his life he’s never going to get back and he’s just accepted it now. At least he got to spend some time with his brother and get some time outdoors – freezing as it is – and the highlights are something he knows will give him a good giggle in the future. Plus, Glanni apparently had a great time, and if there’s one thing Robbie loves it’s seeing his brother happy, so he figures it’s been worth it.

Glanni loiters around the exit to the stadium – one guess why – and Robbie is about to just leave him to it when an awful bright yellow blur comes careening towards him and nearly knocks him out with a broom.

“Robbie!” Sportacus shouts, beaming like the sun. “I didn’t know you were going to come today, did you see me?”

“Too much of you.” Robbie automatically says, but Sportacus laughs.

“Was I any good?” He asks, bouncing slightly on the spot, “What did you think?”

“Um.” He has no idea. Not that he cares how Sportacus did – he didn’t come here for him – but he really couldn’t judge skill even if he wanted to. “You were… alright?” It’s really not heavy praise, he went as neutral as possible, but Sport takes it well enough, nodding and smiling.

“Thank you Robbie! I think I could’ve focused a bit better – too many fancy flips, the captain says – but I stopped a lot of goals.” Some of the other Hufflepuff team members come up behind Sportacus, patting him on the back as they walk by. Sportacus waves at them and turns back to Robbie. “We have to go, thank you for coming! I’m glad you had a good time.” He shoots Robbie a dazzling smile that makes his stomach clench. _Ugh_. He’s too happy about all this sport stuff. At least he knows why they call him Sportacus now.

Sportacus isn’t his real name, of course. It’s actually Tryggvi, but according to Glanni he’d apparently decided to go by the nickname instead after having students and teachers alike mangle his actual name beyond recognition every day. Simpletons.

( _Yes_ , Robbie hated the kid but he did know what it was like to have a name butchered. ‘Glæpur’ wasn’t even that hard a name to say, so he dreaded to think of what these idiots did to ‘Tryggvi’, or, _God_ , ‘Íþróttaálfurinn’. Even the thought makes him shudder, and he knows that Íþróttaálfurinn goes mainly by ‘ _Ithro’_ for the same reason – even the biggest of idiots can say ‘Ithro’, even if they don’t quite pronounce it the same as ‘Íþró’. Robbie can pronounce both perfectly of course – as can Glanni, as they both have the advantage of Icelandic roots and elastic mouths. They’ve always been particularly gifted with the pronunciation of ‘r’, and both have delightful purrs.)

Sportacus rushes off with the rest of his team and Robbie suddenly notices that Glanni has been suspiciously quiet throughout that little… interaction. He turns to find Glanni leaning rakishly against the entrance post, smirking.

“Shut up,” Robbie says automatically. “He won’t leave me alone.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Glanni holds up his hands oh-so-innocently. “I just think it’s cute, is all.”

Robbie turns and opens his mouth to shout that he is _not_ cute, he and Sportacus are _not_ **_cute_** – but then Íþróttaálfurinn rounds the corner with his team and Glanni’s attention is immediately on him, slinking off the post like a true snake and leering at him.

“Nice game _Íþróttaálfurinn_ ,” Glanni drawls, that lovely purr of his rolling through all the syllables of his name as he and the other Gryffindor players leave.

Not wanting to stick around for _that_ , Robbie hurries off very quickly.

 

* * *

 

 

The professor is late. Robbie stands at the back of the queue, checking his bag to see if he's got all his books. He knows he does, but he's bored, and it never hurts to check again. (Or again after that. Or again after _that_.)

It's been a good five minutes since class was supposed to start, and honestly, if the teacher doesn't come soon he's going to skip. It's not the teachers fault – everyone's whispering about a fight on the fourth floor – but he's got a Charms essay he could be doing right now.

Everyone else is chatting amongst themselves – a couple of them are wondering whether or not to skip too.

Suddenly there's a light tap on his shoulder. Robbie jumps, and one of the books falls out of the bag.

"Oh!" Sportacus exclaims, because of course it's him, "I'm so sorry Robbie, I didn't mean to make you jump."

“Well don’t sneak around next time,” Robbie hisses. He bends to pick up the book but Sportacus beats him to it, handing it to Robbie with a sheepish look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “I didn’t know I was!”

Robbie stuffs the book back in his bag. "What do you want Sportadork?" He asks. He refuses to use his nickname properly, since everyone calls him that. He feels like it’ll make them friends, and they are _not_ friends. Then again, he also refuses to use his _real_ name, even though he can actually pronounce it. Since no one else does, it feels too... close. Too personal.

Sportacus smiles at the mockery, which Robbie wasn’t expecting. Sportacus isn’t as predictable as Robbie thinks, which is very annoying. He’s too nice. He’s an idiot.

The Hufflepuff shrugs, “do you think the teacher is coming back?”

Robbie rolls his eyes. “I’m assuming so. She can’t just abandon us with no explanation. She’s got to at least show up to dismiss us.”

Sportacus nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”

They stand awkwardly for a few moments, Robbie unsure how to continue. Not that he wants to. He doesn’t want to talk to Sportacus. He wants Sportacus to go away, instead of acting like they’re friends.

Robbie opens his mouth to tell him just that, but is cut off by Sportacus asking if he’s going to skip like some of the others have done.

“No”, Robbie answers, but only because he sees the teacher hurrying down the corridor towards them. Sportacus beams anyway.


	5. 2nd Year, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie and Sportacus have a chat, and Robbie doesn't completely and utterly hate it. Not that he'd admit that to anyone, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update!
> 
> (Also if Sportacus's speech or writing is a little odd, it's on purpose!)

Robbie finds out that Hufflepuff won the Quidditch match that Glanni dragged him to. He finds out because of the heavily glittered banner that turns up over the Hufflepuff table when he goes to breakfast a couple of days later; its unbelievably huge and every inch of it is glittered, and it reads “CONGRATULATIONS HUFFLEPUFF, BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME ÍÞRÓTTAÁLF♡RINN.” The ‘u’ in Íþróttaálfurinn has been replaced by a red glitter heart and Robbie doubles over at the sight of it, almost wetting his pants in laughter. He’s gasping for air by the time all the other students start arriving, ribs aching and tears streaming down his face. They all give him weird looks but figure out pretty quickly why he’s in the state that he’s in, but still. They all think he’s taking it a little too far. He couldn’t care less though, imagining Glanni doing this late at night surrounded by glue and glitter and making sure every little bit is perfect because this isn’t a taunt, oh no; Robbie’s finding this as funny as he does for a lot of reasons, but mostly for something Glanni won’t have even _realised_ , probably.

He’s just starting to recover when the Sports Elf himself walks into the room and oh God his _face_ – Robbie practically sinks to the floor at the point now where he’s not actually making any noise, that magical point of laughter where it’s completely silent and you can’t breathe.

He hopes to _God_ that Glanni is somewhere with a camera to catch Íþróttaálfurinn’s face because Robbie is in no state to do it himself and he _needs_ there to be photographic evidence of this, he needs it before he actually passes out. He slumps against the bench, watching all of the emotions flicker across Íþróttaálfurinn’s face before finally settling into something resembling a mix of anger, embarrassment and… something else? It looks like he’s trying not to smile which robe can’t really understand but to be honest, he’s in no state to trust his own judgement of Íþróttaálfurinn’s expression at the minuet considering he can’t actually see for tears at the moment.

Eventually Íþróttaálfurinn just shakes his head and sits down at his table to eat his breakfast. He’s immediately badgered by his housemates, but Robbie – hauling himself up from the ground with quite a bit of effort – watches him simply wave them off, smiling and laughing. At least he’s a good sport about the whole thing, Robbie thinks as he takes in lungfulls of air, trying to get his breath back.

He spends most of breakfast with his head on the desk, giggling to himself every now and then as he tries to get his breathing back under control. He’s not a hundred percent successful on that front, but he manages to calm down enough to choke down some overly-sugared porridge. He has to be very careful to not look at Íþróttaálfurinn at _all_ throughout breakfast in case he sends himself back into laughter, but he doesn’t prepare himself from spotting Glanni sitting at the Slytherin table. There’s not a trace of glitter or glue on him, unfortunately; nothing to suggest he’d spend hours making that damn sign, but the sight of him makes Robbie snort and when Glanni catches his eye and winks he’s gone again, he’s absolutely _gone_ , sinking against the table and crying.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of days later and Robbie’s stomach still aches from laughing so hard over the banner. Glanni’s been walking around with a big, stupid grin on his face ever since and Robbie spent an hour sprawled across Glanni’s bed whilst his brother lamented how much effort had gone into making the banner, how much of his glitter supply he’d used and how many hours had gone into making it _perfect_. He’s pretty upset because when he went to get the sign at the end of breakfast it was gone, and he’d wanted to keep it as a memento. They both figure that the teachers took it down, and therefore the likelihood of it being destroyed is very high, which is upsetting to the both of them. They’re not too upset though, because Glanni _did_ get photographic evidence, and it is _beautiful_.

Robbie slips a framed picture of Íþróttaálfurinn going through the entire emotional spectrum into his trunk as he packs for the Easter holidays, a warming-charmed pillow tied to his sore stomach with one of his Ravenclaw ties.

 

* * *

 

 

Two nights before everyone is due to leave for the Easter holidays, Robbie gets up during the night and goes downstairs to the common room, like he does every night. Tonight, he feels like watching the stars. Once he gets down the stairs he heads over to his usual chair, only to freeze.

There’s someone asleep in one of the couches near the fire.

It’s one of the older students by the looks of things, books and rolls of parchment spread out over the couch and a nearby table. Clearly they fell asleep whilst studying. They seem deeply asleep, but Robbie still doesn’t want to move in case he wakes them. He can be silent when he wants to be – he’s an absolute master of sneaking around, always has been – but he really doesn’t want to risk staying down here. What if they wake up on their own anyway? Depending on how long they’ve been there it’s possible; it’s only about two in the morning and Ravenclaws have certainly been known to study later. (And it’s always a problem for Robbie when they do.) If they only fell asleep an hour or so ago they might wake up again soon. Robbie does _not_ want to be there if they do, he can’t bear having to face someone at this time of the morning and he really doesn’t want them asking questions about why he’s awake right now.

He contemplates going back to bed and just waiting until he falls back asleep. He knows it won’t happen until at least four o’clock, but it’s better than being down here with the possibility for questioning. He sighs quietly. He’ll just have to go back upstairs. He can watch the stars tomorrow. As he starts to turn and to go back, he catches sight of the telescope in the corner, surrounded by star charts, and stops.

He has an idea.

It’s easy to sneak out of the common room – the student on the couch doesn’t even move a muscle and none of the teachers are expecting students to be out and about at this time in the morning.

It’s pretty easy to get to the Astronomy Tower right now then, even though it’s half way across the school, and safe to actually _be_ there. It’s way past the time for any Astronomy classes to still be taking place, and even if the professor had stuck around afterwards to tidy up or prepare for tomorrows class, they should still have left a long while ago.

As predicted, the Tower is completely deserted.

The Astronomy Tower is one of Robbie’s favourite places in the entire school, perhaps even better than the inventing room. It’s like an Ultimate version of the Ravenclaw common room; shelves filled with tools and devices, books and rolls of star charts and maps, comfortable stools and chairs to perch on and observe the stars for long periods of time and about 20 telescopes surrounding the outer walls of the room.

There are no windows in this particular tower, which one might think odd for an Astronomy Classroom. There is, however, another way to watch the stars and it’s the main reason Robbie loves this place so much. The ceiling has been charmed in the same way the one in the Great Hall has, making the entire thing transparent.

Looking up, Robbie can see billions of stars sprinkled like sugar across the black sky. It’s beautiful.

He settles down in one of the chairs, sinking into the couches until he’s little more than a ball and watching the stars. He names as many constellations in his head as he can, a little bit for practice, but mostly for relaxation. He’s there for about twenty minutes before he hears someone coming up the stairs. He freezes for a second before his self-preservation kicks in and he whips out his wand and preforms a Disillusionment Charm on himself, feeling the familiar cold dripping down his spine as he casts it. When he looks down at his hands, clenched against the couch cushions, they’re the same woven texture as the chair he’s sat in.

He holds his breath until whoever it is comes up into the stairwell, and nearly lets it out again when he sees familiar blonde curls appearing over the banister. He keeps it in however; Sportacus isn’t one for breaking the rules, and though Robbie doesn’t know why he’s up here, he doesn’t want to get ratted out. Sportacus has a quick look around the room when his eyes peek above the banister and as soon as he sees that the coast is clear – though it actually isn’t – he heads over to one of the chairs and sits down, looking at the ceiling.

Huh.

“Didn’t think a goody two shoes such as yourself didn’t sneak around?”

Robbie cackles as he watches the Hufflepuff jump a foot in the air, heart clutching his chest as he looks wildly around. He raises his wand and removes the Disillusionment Charm, enjoying the fact that though Sportacus recognises him and relaxes somewhat, he still looks quite ruffled. Maybe even a little bit angry. The anger fades pretty quickly though.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He admits, shifting his foot against the carpet. “Watching the stars helps.”

“Can’t you just do that from your common room?” Robbie asks, frowning.

Sportacus shakes his head, moving his foot up to the seat. “We live down near the kitchens. We have windows and stuff and can see outside, but it’s not the best view to see the stars.”

Oh.

“Could you not sleep too?” Sportacus asks him. He tilts his head like a puppy and Robbie has to fight back a roll of his eyes. He can’t fight the snort though.

“I _never_ sleep,” he says.

Sportacus looks… very worried by this. Also a little confused, as if he’s trying to work out just how much ‘never’ means. Robbie actually thinks he thinks ‘never’ really does mean ‘never’.

“That’s um. That’s –” Bless him. He’s struggling. “I’ve just ever seen you up here before.” Sportacus finishes, finally.

“We can see the stars _very_ well from Ravenclaw tower,” Robbie scoffs. “I don’t usually need to come up here.”

“But you did tonight?”

Robbie narrows his eyes. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Normally he would just leave, but tonight he wants to see the stars so he’s going to see the damn stars. If someone leaves this time, it will be Sportacus. Plus, it’s still too early to go back.

“There was someone in the common room.” He tells Sportacus reluctantly. “They were sleeping. I did not want to disturb them.”

That’s technically a lie, but Sportacus looks pleased by it. Good. Might make this whole thing a little bit bearable. He doesn’t want Sportacus to like him, he’s friendly _enough_ , but he’d also rather not have deal with making Sportacus angry or moody.

“Do you come here often then?” Robbie attempts. It sounds like one of the cheesy pick-up lines that Glanni hates but still uses and he cringes a little bit, but the fact that Sportacus said ‘before’ implies that Robbie wants to know.

Sportacus shrugs. “Not often,” he says. “I sleep very well most of the nights, but sometimes I don’t. Then I come up here.”

“Oh.” Robbie says quietly.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the stars, until Sportacus tips his head towards him and asks Robbie what his favourite constellation is.

“Scorpio,” Robbie answers without hesitation. “It’s my brothers star sign.”

“Oh, is that why it’s your favourite.”

“No,” Robbie snorts, wiggling his hand a little bit. “It’s the only one that actually looks like what it’s meant to.” He points at Pisces. “I mean, that hardly looks like a pair of fish, does it?”

Sportacus snorts so loudly that Robbie jumps. “No, it most definitely does not,” Sportacus confirms, giggling. When he finally calms down, he rests his head against the back of his chair and point sup, somewhere to Robbie’s left. “I like the little Dipper,” the Hufflepuff says.

“Why?”

“People always go for the Big Dipper. It’s more famous.” Sportacus shrugs. “I like to go for the little guy. It’s cute, I feel sorry for it.”

And _God_ , if that isn’t the most… logical and weird answer Robbie has ever heard in his life. It’s _adorable_. Robbie buried his face in his hands and just makes noises. They might be giggles, they might be sobs, he just doesn’t know.

“My brother likes Orion; the hunter,” Sportacus tells Robbie whilst he calms down. “It’s the first one he learned, and the first one he taught me.”

“Wait, wait,” Robbie hold up a hand, “you have a _brother?”_ Robbie didn’t know that.

Sportacus gives him a bit of an odd look. “Yes, my brother, Íþróttaálfurinn, he’s in Gryffindor in–”

“Your brother is _Íþróttaálfurinn?_ ”” Robbie gapes. He could slap himself, honestly. How has he never made this connection before? “Oh God,” Robbie moans, shoving his face in the cushions of his chair. “Oh God, oh _God_.”

 “What’s wrong?” Sportacus asks, shooting out of his chair and into the one next to Robbie’s.

“I’m so stupid,” Robbie wails, “I can’t _believe_ I didn’t know, it’s so _obvious_ , the two of you are practically twins.”

They really are. They really, genuinely are. They have identical bright blue eyes and golden blonde ringlets, both are broad shouldered yet hilariously short, and are known for being ‘golden-hearted guys’. They both play quidditch and are insanely good, and are ridiculously active and athletic.

The only main differences are that Sportacus is slimmer and less muscled – Íþróttaálfurinn already looks like he spends all day weightlifting, though Robbie has no doubt that Sportacus’ll end up looking the same in a year or two – and lacks the terrible facial hair that Íþróttaálfurinn seems to (incorrectly) thinks is a blessing to his own face.

God, it’s so fricking _obvious_.

Sportacus laughs at Robbie’s demise within the cushions, snickering into his hand. “You really didn’t know?”

“ _No!_ ” Robbie shrieks, “It just never clicked!”

“Wow.” Sportacus says, sitting back on his heels in the chair. He looks as shocked as Robbie feels.

“Oh God,” Robbie moans, shoving his hands through his hair, “Glanni’s _never_ going to let me live it down if he finds out I didn’t know about this.”

Sportacus chuckles briefly. “Ah, yes,” he says drily, “I believe our brothers know each other.”

Robbie lets out the biggest, most ugly snort he’s ever let out in his life. Its horrific, and to get past it he gives Sportacus his best ‘ _duh_ ,’ look. Sportacus just smiles wryly at him.

It’s safe to say that their brothers more than just ‘know’ each other. They’ve hated each other since Glanni’s first year at Hogwarts, when he set off a set of dungbombs in the Gryffindor common room. Íþróttaálfurinn caught him laughing outside, figured out that it was Glanni who’s set ‘em off and chased him down the halls. It had ended in a bit of a scrap on the second floor – nothing major; Íþróttaálfurinn isn’t the violent sort and Glanni’s a bit of a scrapper but he didn’t have the advantage of height or power that he does now, so it was mainly just them rolling around on top of each other and sissy-slapping. The rest is history, and now they’re mortal enemies, destined to die fighting each other in a barrage of arrows and flames – or so Glanni says. Glanni refuses to shut up about Íþróttaálfurinn.

From the look of suffering on Sportacus’s face, Robbie can make the assumption that Íþróttaálfurinn doesn’t shut up about Glanni either, which is _very_ interesting indeed.

“To be fair,” Robbie says, “it’s not surprising that they hate each other as much as they do considering they’re polar opposites. That they’re in Gryffindor and Slytherin just makes it so much worse.”

“It’s so silly,” Sportacus sighs, shaking his head, “Gryffindors and Slytherins. They could get along so well if they let themselves.”

“Yeah.” Robbie agrees. It’s something he’s thought about himself. “Then again, if they didn’t have that house rivalry, I dread to think what our brothers would be like.” Robbie shudders.

“Or if they got put in the same house,” Sportacus says, and Robbie nearly gags. “In different years, they would still have separation for classes, but they’d be in the same common room and the same house-friend groups.”

“ _God_ ,” Robbie moans.

“I think it would make things better as well as worse,” Sportacus offers, and Robbie knows _exactly_ what he means.

“So, _so_ much worse,” Robbie nods. “Glanni said the Hat considered him for all the houses for a little while. They could’ve ended up together.”

“Íþróttaálfurinn said that hat nearly put him in Hufflepuff. It took a long time. Longer than it did with me.”

“And it took _ages_ with you,” Robbie snorts, and Sportacus grins. “Glanni wouldn’t’ve been put in Hufflepuff, even if the Hat _did_ think about it for a second. No way.”

“He’s very loyal,” Sportacus says. “I’ve seen him with you, and with his own house. He’d kill for all of you.”

Robbie keeps back the soft smile his mouth is so desperate to make. “He’s _very_ loyal,” he agrees, “but that’s it. Nothing else Hufflepuff-y. I can’t see him as anything except a Slytherin.”

Sportacus hums, leaning back in his chair. “I think that we all have traits from every house, but the Hat chooses what we’ve got the most of. That’s why I find it so silly when people say that you can’t get a brave Slytherin, or a sneaky Gryffindor, or genius Hufflepuffs. You can. Just because it’s not a main house trait doesn’t mean it’s completely impossible for you to be like that. I’m in Hufflepuff. That’s not the house known for being brave, but it doesn’t mean that I’m not brave, or that I can’t be.”

Robbie just listens as Sportacus goes on his little rant. It’s very interesting, actually, and he’s making a lot of good points.

“So you can get a Slytherin who’s still super incredibly loyal, they’re just in Slytherin because they’re more sneaky or because they used their sneakiness more – like your brother.”

Robbie nods.

“Or like, Gryffindors are really loyal to each other and stick together and protect each other, and so do Slytherins with other Slytherins, but Hufflepuff is the house known for loyalty. That doesn’t mean the other houses are less loyal, just… more with one thing than another, I guess.” Sportacus waves his hand vaguely. “That’s why Hufflepuffs get along pretty well with all the other houses, I think. Loyalty’s a _big_ part of every house. A lot of people can relate to us.”

Robbie shifts uncomfortably. To hide it, he brings his legs up onto the seat and sits on them.

Sportacus seems to notice anyway. “Gosh, I’m sorry, I’m talking an awful lot,” he apologises. “It’s very late, sometimes when I’m tired my body make’s itself hyper to try and keep it awake.”

“It’s fine,” Robbie says automatically. Surprisingly enough, it _is_ alright. This hasn’t been… the worst conversation.

Sportacus smiles at him, grateful. Robbie can see the tiredness in his eyes and wonders why he doesn’t just go the heck to bed if he’s that sleepy. Coming up here has clearly served its purpose of tiring him out, why doesn’t he just go?

“That’s why I think there are Hatstalls,” Sportacus says after a few moments. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell what the… bigger trait is, if it’s only a tiny little bit bigger. Íþró’s just as brave as he is loyal, I think, so it would’ve been very hard to tell which one he is more.”

“Did it do the same with you?”

“Yes, it had to make the same choice with me; Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. It made the choice quicker with me.” He sounds a bit… funny. Robbie would almost say sad, but he can’t quite tell.

“You did cartwheel up to it, maybe it just wanted to see you do it again.”

Sportacus goes very quiet for a moment. Robbie seriously wonders if he’s put his foot in it before Sportacus laughs. He lets out a very quiet sigh of relief.

“I couldn’t help it, I was so excited!” Sportacus giggles. “I do that sometimes. I almost tipped the boat over in my first year.”

Suddenly Robbie sits up in his seat. “That was _you?”_ He’s _heard_ about that! Some kid in their first year nearly sent their boat right over.

Sportacus nodded, “Mhmm, I got too excited.”

“What an idiot,” Robbie says, without thinking.

Thankfully, Sportacus just laughs. “I know, I know. I wanted to see if they’d let me on the boats this year to see it again but they said no.”

Robbie feels his face heat. “Well– well that was dumb,” he stutters, hand twitching against the arm of the chair. “It’s only first years in the boat for a reason.”

Sportacus shrugs, still smiling. “I know, but I didn’t think it could hurt to ask.” He picks at the arm of his seat, staring intently at the fabric. “I thought they looked like stars.”

Robbie smiles. It’s very, _very_ small. “I thought glitter,” he says quietly, then snorts. “I mean, I live with Glanni so…”

“He does have quite the fondness of glitter,” Sportacus says seriously.

Robbie chuckles.

They sit there for a little while, watching the stars. Something keeps niggling at Robbie’s mind, something he’s wondered for a while now.

“Why me?”

He sees Sportacus turn his head towards Robbie out of the corner of his eye. Robbie keeps his gaze firmly on the ceiling.

“Why did you ask _me_ to tutor you?”

“You’re smart,” Sportacus says after a beat, like it’s universal knowledge.

Well, it is – but no one seems to acknowledge it. Not even his teachers, even when it’s so, so obvious. Sportacus is making fun of him. He must be. He’s pulling his leg, he’s–

“And,” Sportacus continues, “and it might be useful to be able to speak in my own language. To understand things better. You know English better than me. If I don’t understand something in English, you can tell it to me in our own language so I do.”

Robbie stops short. Well. He can’t argue with that logic. He and Glanni often talk in Icelandic, not necessarily about school work though. It’s comforting, and personal, and sometimes things just come across a little bit better.

Robbie sees Sportacus start jiggling his leg.

“You don’t have to um, write anything,” Sportacus tells him, “don’t worry. It’s the practical things I need to work on.”

Robbie stiffens. How _dare_ he.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” Sportacus says quietly, and he isn’t, he really isn’t, but Robbie is so tired of that being pointed out to him, so angry and fed up that he doesn’t care if he is or not. “I just, I know what is see.”

He doesn’t care if Sportacus doesn’t mean to offend. He doesn’t. At least he’s said it to Robbie’s _face_. That’s more than anyone else has done.

Robbie doesn’t say anything and Sportacus goes silent. Robbie wonders if Sportacus thinks he’s put his own foot in it. If he does think that, then he’s right, because he most definitely has.

“Do you think the Hat makes mistakes?” Robbie blurts before he can stop himself.

Sportacus stares at his feet. “I’d… like to think that it doesn’t, no.”

 _‘I think it does,’_ Robbie doesn’t say.

Silence descends on the both of them, until Robbie feels his eyes almost slip shut. He jerks a little, shaking himself awake and then stands, making his way over to the staircase. He feels Sportacus’s eyes on him the entire time. He pauses, two steps down. He wonders if he should say goodnight or something.

“I’ll do it,” is what falls out of his mouth. He hurries down the stairs before Sportacus can say anything in reply.

 

* * *

 

 

When Robbie sneaks back into the common room, the student from before is still there, snoring softly on the couch. He takes a quick peek at the huge, star-studded clock face over the mantelpiece. It’s a little after half four.

He glances at the student, then makes his decision. He clears away the stuff on the couch, silent as a mouse, and moves it into the table before grabbing a nearby blanket and draping it over their back before tiptoeing up the stairs to the dorms.

Might as well get all of these disgustingly helpful urges he seems to be having out of the way all at once, right? Its half four in the morning, anyway, anything he does now is clearly a product of too little sleep and the early hour.

He doesn’t go to breakfast the next morning. Mostly because he ended up oversleeping and therefore would’ve only made it relatively on time if he’d have rushed and put in a lot of speed and effort, which he was _not_ willing to do, but also because he really, _really_ doesn’t want to see Sportacus.

He still can’t believe that he did that last night.

Robbie stays in bed until the absolute last second before he has to get up and get ready, wallowing in embarrassment and being bombarded by second-thoughts. He remains undisturbed, thankfully, so he can at least wallow with the curtains open. Glanni won’t find it odd if he doesn’t see him in the Great Hall for breakfast. Sometimes Robbie oversleeps, or just doesn’t feel like it. If he doesn’t show up for breakfast the next couple of days too, or if he misses classes today, _then_ Glanni will worry, but he doesn’t plan on doing that so it’s fine.

Well, it’s mostly fine. Sportacus is in most of his classes after all.

 

* * *

 

 

On the last day of term before the Easter Holidays, Robbie is packing. Luckily he doesn’t have much to take, so he can get it all done before breakfast.

Glanni will have packed at least two days before, no question, so it’s not a surprise to see Glanni already in the Great Hall when Robbie gets down there and plonks himself down at the Ravenclaw table. He grabs some sweet pastries and an incredibly buttery croissant, which he slathers with jam, and munches happily whilst he watches the morning post arrive. Unexpectedly, Sugarpie, Robbie’s owl, comes swooping through the Great hall with all the others, dropping a tiny letter onto Robbie’s plate. He feeds him a corner of his croissant and a nearby raspberry or two before the owl flies away, fluttering off with the others as Robbie opens the letter.

_“Dear Robbie, I was thinking about when you wanted to start tutoring? I need help with Charms and Transfiguration practical work. That is about as far as I got with my question, I do not actually know what to do after just asking you. From, Sportacus.”_

Well. That wasn’t as bad as he was expecting. Like Glanni said, it looked like it was just general language problems, the kind that come from still learning. He was doing fine, just not quite as smooth as everyone else. Oh well, he was teaching him practical work anyway so it didn’t really matter to Robbie.

Folding the letter, Robbie pulls a bit of parchment out of his bag and very carefully writes a reply.

_“Sportaflop. I will work out a time table for you over the holidays. I will have to look at what you need to learn. We will start after Easter. For now, write me a list of what you’re worst at. Robbie.”_

It’s short and blunt and seems quite rude, but it’s the only way he can minimise his mistakes. Short sentences and small words are harder to mess up, especially if there’s not a lot of them. Sportacus hadn’t been outright mean about Robbie’s writing the other night, but there’s no need to give him something to change that.

He goes to the owlery at break to send the letter. As easy as it would’ve been to send Sugarpie to the Hufflepuff table, he doesn’t want any more attention than he already gets for ‘speaking’ to Sportacus – though as far as people know at the moment it’s just Sportacus speaking to him and Robbie giving him weird looks in reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Later in the day he heads over to the Slytherin common room to get Glanni. They agreed to meet here before the call for the Hogwarts express so that they could go down together, which means that Robbie’s standing outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room waiting for Glanni to let him in.

He’s been waiting a few minutes already, having got there early, but it’s no bother. He just hangs around. After a while though, Robbie starts to get a bit antsy. Glanni’s late.

Eventually, the entrance opens. Instead of Glanni though, it’s a sixth year Slytherin that comes out, looking at Robbie with a frown.

“Do you want to come in and wait?” he asks, gesturing inside the still open entrance.

Robbie nods and steps forward. “Thank you,” he says as he climbs through.

“No problem,” the student tells him as he leaves.

Robbie’s noticed that it’s the older Slytherins who seem more okay with him. Most of them’ll let him in pretty much without question now, since they all know he’ll just be waiting around for Glanni. They’re sweet like that, to let him wait inside instead of out in the dungeon corridor.

The new set of firsties don’t really seem to care; they have their own tiny lives to get on with, simply accepting that there’s a weird Ravenclaw who sometimes comes into the common room and they ignore him.

His own year see him in class, they know what he’s like, so he knows why they avoid him. They seem to get used to him after a while, and seem slightly more amiable to him in class or if he sees them around school, but that’s it.

The older ones treat him… kind of like a little brother, but like, from afar. That’s the only way he can think to describe it; they don’t really interact with him, but they watch him. They don’t seem to whisper about him, they just sort of let him be. If he wasn’t so sure they were watching out for him, he’d say they’re indifferent. He’s sure it’s because Glanni’s told them to look out for him, to be nice, but honestly, he doesn’t care. They’re not trying too hard, not trying to be his friend and be nice to him because Glanni told them to, they’re just watching out for him.

When they do interact though, they’re nice. Polite, like he’d expect older students to be. It’s the little things.

Speaking of older students, he and Molly spy each other from across the room and she waves him over, swinging her legs up from the rest of the couch to make room for him. He sits down next o her and she slides a bookmark in the book she was reading.

“Alright poppet,” she greets, smiling.

“Hi Molly.”

“You waiting for His Highness?”

Robbie snorts, oh he likes Molly very much. “Yeah, he’s meant to be meeting me here but I think he’s late.”

Molly shakes her head at the celling. “Ugh,” she groans, “yeah kiddo, he is. He ran off about half an hour ago, raving about a leaving present for Ithro.”

“Oh _God_.” Robbie bangs his head gently against the back of the couch.

“I didn’t know he was meeting you, otherwise I’d’ve let ya in earlier,” she winces, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Robbie shrugs, “I doubt he’d’ve told you.” Whoops, that was actually a bit ruder than he’d meant. “I mean,” he adds hastily, “everything else usually goes out his head when he’s got Íþróttaálfurinn on his mind. He won’t’ve remembered.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “Mmm,” she says, giving Robbie a Look. He understands it completely.

“Well whilst we’re waiting for your dumbass brother to _show_ his dumb ass, why don’t you tell me what you’ve got planned for the Holidays?” She asks, leaning her chin on her well-manicured fist.

“Not much,” Robbie answers. “Me and Glanni will probably just eat our bodyweight in Easter eggs three times over,” he snickers. “We were thinking of seeing if our parents’ll take us to the theatre though.”

“You guys like the theatre?” Molly asks, eyebrow raised. “That explains a _lot_ about your brother.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Robbie smirks. “Are you staying here for Easter?”

Molly shakes her head, blonde curls flying. “Nah. I want to go fishing again, there’s a nice stream down from my Uncle’s house that’s always teaming during this time of year. Plus, I wanna teach my little cousin how to play football.”

“Not Quidditch?”

“Muggles,” she winks.

“Ah,” Robbie nods. Most of his family are wizards, and those who aren’t all know about the wizarding world.

“I told Sportacus I’d tutor him,” he suddenly blurts, then covers his mouth with is sleeves. He wasn’t meant to say that. Oh jeez.

Molly raises both eyebrows at him now, leaning back a bit. “And that’s… supposed to be some sort of secret, is it?” She asks, and Robbie panics.

“What do you mean, ‘supposed’ to be?” He hisses, “do people _know?_ ”

Molly gives him a weird look and laughs. “No? I haven’t heard anything anyway, I just don’t see why you’re bein’ all odd ‘bout this. It’s just tutoring, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” Robbie says hurriedly, “yeah, it’s just– It’s complicated.”

“Why?”

“Because– because it is! We’re not friends, it’s odd for him to me to tutor him.”

“Is it? I mean, if I wanted someone to tutor me I wouldn’t give a shite about whether we’re friends or not, I’d just go for who’d get me the best grades,” Molly shrugs. “And you’re grades are pretty damn spectacular, from what I hear, kid.”

Robbie snorts, nose twitching. She’s clearly only heard about his practical grades.

“But he acts like we’re friends.”

“…So?”

“We’re not friends. I don’t like him, but he still acts like we’re besties and asks me to tutor him,” Robbie explains. “People already think it’s weird that he _speaks_ to me, if they found out I was tutoring him too then they’ll find it even weirder.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Molly says. Robbie doesn’t think she understands fully, but he thinks she understands enough and that’s fine by him.

At that point, Glanni comes flying through the entrance to the common room, hair sticking up and eyes wild. He spots Robbie sat frozen on the couch and launches himself over the back of another one to almost land in Robbie’s lap.

“Hey bro!” He shouts, “sorry I’m late.”

“Are you okay?” Robbie squeaks, the look in Glanni’s eyes freaking him out.

“Just peachy darling! The Gryffindor fucker just caught me on my way out of his dorm, that’s all. Nearly blew myself up.”

“What–”

“Come on Robbie!” Glanni yelps, standing and yanking Robbie off the sofa by the hand, Robbie able to do little more than making sure that he doesn’t fall over as Glanni drags him off towards the dorms to grab his trunk and _is Glanni’s hair a little bit on **fire** at the back?_

 

* * *

 

 

Glanni and Molly invite him to sit with them on the train ride back, and Robbie accepts. Glanni predictably buys most of the candy from the Hogwarts Express trolley, and Robbie sucks happily on a sugar quill as Glanni fills them in on what he’d left waiting in Íþróttaálfurinn’s bed.

Robbie’s pretty sure that molly has also realised that Glanni’s not giving them 100% of the story, more like 86% or so, but neither of them say anything, just exchange pointed looks as Glanni regales them with tales of sneakery and wit.

When they reach Kings Cross. Both he and Glanni are very pleasantly surprised to find that their parents have already booked theatre tickets for them…

In two hours.

Glanni immediately flies into a panic and demands to be taken home right that second so he can get ready because honestly how could they? He has to shower and do his hair and pick out a good outfit and find matching shoes and create a Makeup Look that will go perfectly with everything and oh how could his parents be so careless?

Robbie chuckles as his parents roll their eyes and floo them home, unpacking what little he brought with him as Glanni strips in the middle of the hallway and practically flies into his shower.

Robbie’s already picked out his clothes by the time Whirlwind Glanni finally gets out of his shower and into his room – which Robbie can tell happens by the banging and swearing that instantly arises in the room next-door to his own.

Robbie thanks whatever’s up there that Glanni has his own en-suite because he dreads navigating whatever mess Glanni’s left in there in his hurry. Instead, he steps over Glanni’s pile of clothes and gets in the main shower on the second floor, taking his sweet time as he listens to Glanni screaming above him.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie is enjoying breakfast the next morning when something small and fluffy slams into the kitchen window. He drops his spoon, cereal and milk flying everywhere, Glanni stops whistling one of the tunes from the musical they saw last night and raises an eyebrow, his Mamma drops a cup onto the floor, shattering it, and his Pabbi flings the watering can he was using to water the plants in the window halfway across the room. His Pabbi opens the window and the worlds tiniest owl pretty much vibrates through the opening and lands next to Robbie’s plate, screeching.

His Mamma repairs the cup whilst his Pabbi goes to clean up the water, and Robbie tries his best to ignore Glanni’s raised eyebrow as he unties the letter that is honestly almost as big as the damn owl from its leg. This is particularly hard because the owl is _very_ hyper and is alternating between trying to snuggle into his hand and nip it.

“Ow!”

Once he has the letter the owl calms ( _slightly_ ) and curls into a ball in his hand… purring? He looks at it down his scrunched nose, patting it warily. Glanni delights in feeding it honey-o’s, making the little thing bounce across the room and do tricks for them.

Eventually his Mamma hits Glanni over the back of the head with a napkin and tells him to let the poor thing go, and it flies back out the window very, _very_ loudly.

“That thing was fucking _insane_ ,” Glanni cackles, ignoring Mamma’s hiss of “ _language_.”

Robbie just shoves the letter in his pyjama pocket and picks his spoon out of his cereal.

 

* * *

 

 

After breakfast, Robbie hurries to his room but he’s not fast enough to escape his brother.

Glanni doesn’t get to take the Apparition exam until his Sixth Year, Robbie already knows that he’s going to pass it first time since he can practically appear places at will already.

“So who ya getting letters from, little Robin?” Glanni asks, bouncing down onto Robbie’s bed, his legs in the air and ankles crossed as he rests his chin on interlocked fingers. He looks like the picture of innocence. Or he would, if he wasn’t smirking so _evilly_. “Got a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?”

Robbie opens his mouth to _scream_ at Glanni but his brother’s too fast, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“I’m kidding!” He shouts, “I’m kidding!”

Robbie lets Glanni pull his hand away without making a noise, but he does level Glanni with a look that makes him flinch.

“C’mon Rob, you know I wouldn’t be serious about that,” Glanni rolls his eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, if you did I would be completely supportive and only a little bit of a shit about it, but you’re _twelve_ for fucks sake. You don’t need one of those yet.”

“I know,” Robbie snaps. Glanni knows he doesn’t give a heck about any of that sort of thing.

“But seriously, who’s the letter from?” Glanni asks, as Robbie starts pulling out his desk and getting parchment. “Is it Molly?”

“No.”

“Good, she’s a bit old for you anyway – not that there’s anything wrong with dating an older wo–”

Robbie thwacks Glanni with the letter, hitting him until Glanni curls up in a ball and cries defeat.

“It’s from Sportadonk, you _dick_.”

“Language.”

Robbie goes to hit him with the letter again and Glanni jumps back far enough that he falls off the bed, which is enough for Robbie.

Smiling, he opens the letter, pleased to find the list that he’d asked for.

“What’s he doing writing to you? I thought you didn’t like him?” Glanni asks, confused.

“I _don’t_ ,” Robbie insists, drawing up a table. “I just… might’ve agreed to tutor him.”

He waits for Glanni’s crow of cockishness, but he’s suspiciously silent. He turns to find his brother back on the bed like he was before, watching Robbie with a thoughtful look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Glanni shrugs. “How’d he wear you down?”

“Perseverance,” Robbie lies.

“Yes, they’re like that,” Glanni says. It sounds fond, so Robbie figures he’s referring to both Sportacus and Íþróttaálfurinn. _Yikes_.

“Do you know when the Quidditch practices are?” Robbie asks. “The Hufflepuff ones.”

“Tuesday lunch, Wednesday afternoons and Saturdays. When third period would be.” Glanni answers immediately.

Robbie doesn’t question it, though he finds it weird as heck that does indeed Glanni know the Hufflepuff Quidditch practice times. He adds them to the timetable.

“Now shove off,” Robbie tells him.

Glanni rolls his eyes and gets up to leave, but not before giving Robbie the biggest, wettest smooch on the cheek that he can.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie finishes the timetable just before tea.

He’s decided that they will have one session on Tuesday and one on Thursday, both after lessons. The Tuesday one will be for Charms, since they have Charms on Mondays and Tuesdays (and Wednesdays, but whatever,) and Transfiguration for the Thursday one, as they have Transfiguration lessons on Thursdays and Fridays. That way, they can essentially go through what they were taught that week and see if Sportacus needs help with it, which, from what Robbie has seen, is very likely. They then have one and a half hours to work on it if need be. If not, then they’ll go over something from the list, and when that runs out, stuff from their first year.

Robbie has a list of his own, with sort of a lesson plan written down on it. Sportacus will have a go at the spell, and if Robbie can’t spot what’s wrong straight away, then they’ll go through everything in this order until they do; the theory behind the spell, then the incantation and the pronunciation, and then the wand movements.

He makes a copy and rolls it up, attaching it to Sugarpie’s leg and sending him off.

He wonder’s if Sportacus will be weirded out by the schedule, or if he’ll think Robbie’s too bossy. If he is, or he does, then _tough_. Maybe then Robbie won’t have to do this at all.

Plus, lots of Ravenclaws make schedules. It’s not that odd. Robbie likes being prepared for things, that’s all. And he likes making them; it’s cathartic.

Anyway, if it doesn’t make him run for the hills then Sportacus better _damn_ well appreciate the effort he’s putting into this. He put off his first Easter egg for this. (And his Easter homework, but the eggs are _way_ more important.)


	6. 2nd Year, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first tutoring sessions... aren't quite as bad as Robbie thinks. It's not all smooth sailing though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait, these past two weeks have been all over the place and this particular chapter was a real toughie to write for some reason :/
> 
> apologies - now that it's (finally) here though, enjoy!

Seeing as the rest of his Easter holiday was spent stuffing as many chocolate eggs into his face as his body would physically allow him, Robbie comes back to Hogwarts for the new term in a pretty good mood – one that not even the upcoming bad grades from his Easter homework, or his tutorship of Sportacus can ruin.

Speaking of, Robbie had received an unexpectedly long letter from Sportacus in reply to the schedule. Clearly his English skills didn’t slow him down when it came to length – or in writing in general, actually, since Sportacus’s writing, whilst _relatively_ clear, could only be described by Robbie as a scrawl. It was like he couldn’t wait to get the words down on the page.

In essence, it had said that the schedule was fine and that Robbie was so organised and clever to think of such a thing and a thank you for putting the time in – which, _wow_ – and that he was looking forward to starting tutoring with him when they came back from Easter. There had also been a paragraph or two about what Sportacus had been doing over the summer that Robbie most definitely did _not_ read.

He hadn’t sent back a reply, simply feeding Sportacus’s insane owl a couple of berries from the breakfast table and shooing it away. There wasn’t really anything to reply to; Robbie didn’t care what Sportacus was doing in his holiday, and he wasn’t about to send a letter just saying, ‘glad you approve,’ or ‘thank you for your kind words’. No way.

Sportacus could just wait until Tuesday afternoon. It was only two days away after all; the students had arrived back at the castle on the Sunday, just in time for the evening meal. After that, most of them had just gone to bed, since the train journey was a long one. A few had stayed up to potter around but those who had mostly stayed in their dorms or common rooms and chatted.

Robbie himself was invited down to the Slytherin common room for a bit. He’d shared a chaise longue with Molly whilst Glanni and his friends sat around them on the couches or on the floor. Apparently it was a tradition; every time Glanni came back from a term-holiday, he’d give out the rest of what he’d bought from the Honeydukes Express trolley to his friends. He always bought out most of the trolley – and wasn’t Robbie just _dying_ to know where he got all that money from – and until now Robbie had been under the impression that he just ate some of it on the train and squirreled the rest away to snack on throughout the rest of the term, building up his stores, so to speak. But no, _this_ was what he did.

Robbie watches Glanni, surrounded by his friends, laughing and joking and swapping holiday stories whilst they munch on sugar quills and cauldron cakes and every flavour beans, and thinks that _this_ is what Glanni meant when he said your house is like your family – even if it isn’t _his_ family.

Robbie goes to bed warm and fuzzy that night. Slytherin might not be his house, and therefore might not be his family, but he doesn’t care. It’s close enough. And hey, Glanni _is_ his family and _he’s_ in Slytherin. So maybe they are.

 

* * *

 

 

Monday’s lessons go about as well as expected, as do Tuesday’s. He hands in the majority of his Easter homework and a gets to watch Sportacus fail at some more spells in Charms.

Yeesh, he really _does_ need to be tutored. Still, Robbie doesn’t want to have to be the one to do it but he’s already dug his own grave, might as well get into it and hope someone’ll say something nice at his funeral. Glanni will. And Molly, hopefully.

Alright so that wasn’t the nicest of metaphors but lessons are done for the day and he’s already pretty much in the library by now so he doesn’t really have time think of a different one so he’ll just have to suck it up and _not_ think about dying and being buried alive.

He’s so caught up in trying not to think about that that he doesn’t realise that he’s at the place they agreed to meet until he skids to a halt because Sportacus is _already there_.

Of _course_ he is, it’s really something Robbie should’ve expected; Sportacus practically speed walks around the school at all times at the very least, more often than not he’ll be seen jogging or – _ugh_ – running, or even flipping on a few memorable occasions. It’s no surprise that he got there first. That doesn’t, however, mean that Robbie had been expecting it, and therefore all plans of having a few moments to set up and mentally prepare himself have gone straight out of the window.

“Hello Robbie!” Sportacus chirps, beaming. He has his bag with him, thank God, he’s not going to be one of those idiots who never brings a quill then.

Robbie grunts in return and goes over to the table to begin pulling out his stuff. He gets out his charms book, some parchment and his quill and ink, and the lesson plan he made which he sets down carefully near his bag.

“So what do you want,” Robbie asks.

“What?” Sportacus looks confused, “I want you to tutor me?”

Oh God. “No, no,” Robbie says, rubbing his forehead, “I mean what do you want out of the tutoring. I don’t want to teach you things when you came here for something completely different.”

“Oh! Oh, right.” Sportacus thinks for a moment. “I want to get better at practical Charms and Transfiguration. I’m okay with my writing because that’s just my English, and the entire grade for my other subjects is passable, but because my practical is bad for those two it means my entire grade is low and I’m failing.”

“Most practical work doesn’t really have a grade system like the written stuff because it’s usually just a case of pas or fail; you can do it or you can’t,” Robbie says. “You want to pass all the practical stuff.”

Sportacus nods. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” he shrugged, “just as long as I can do it.” Robbie frowns at that, and Sportacus has to clarify. “I’m _really_ not very good at this, perfect might take too long.”

“Ah.” Robbie gets it now. At least that means that he won’t have to spend ages getting it perfect. He’ll still put all his effort in though; If Robbie Rotten is going to teach Sportacus he’s going to do it _well_.

“Right,” he says, trying to sound confident. He may be smarter than Sportacus and know what he’s doing, but for Robbie it’s pretty much all _instinct_. Combine that with the fact that he doesn’t really speak to people and that he is not in _any_ way a teacher… he’s honestly just expanding most of his effort right now on trying to not throw up.

“We’ve been doing warming charms yesterday and today so we’ll be doing that.”

Startled, Sportacus jumps to unpack his things, whipping out his own textbook and a _stack_ of parchment along with his writing equipment. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting Robbie to jump right into it, which is stupid. What else was he expecting him to do?

“Now, you’re going to show me the spell – whatever you can do, I just need to see you try it – and then we’ll work from there.”

“Alright,” Sportacus says, getting out his wand.

Robbie does the same. He’s brought a cup with him from lunch, and he sets it on the table and conjures some water before freezing it. “Warm that,” he orders. “The ice should melt a bit, depending on how much you warm it.”

Sportacus tries, he really does, but no matter what he does the ice doesn’t so much as melt. It’s sad to watch, it really is. Following his lesson plan, Robbie has him go through each step individually, scrunching his nose as he observes.

His wand movements are perfect, if a little fast, so no problems there, and he’s got the incantation down to a T. The only thing that Robbie can see an issue with is his pronunciation. Sportacus’s accent is messing with the pronunciation of the incantation. It shouldn’t quite be enough for him to be completely unable to do the spell, but it’s definitely a problem.

When he brings it up, Sportacus goes bright red. Of course, Robbie had been blunt about it. He wasn’t actually trying to be mean about it, just stating a fact.

“Not like _that_ ,” he sighs. “It’s not an issue in everyday life is it? Just with the spell.”

Sportacus shuffles his foot against the floor. “I know, I just… It makes me sound funny sometimes. I don’t sound like everybody else.” The Hufflepuff shrugs. “It doesn’t _bother_ me, really, it just gets a little annoying sometimes.”

Robbie scoffs and crosses his arms, looking very unimpressed. “I don’t sound ‘like everyone else’ either, if you haven’t noticed.” True, Sportacus’s accent is certainly quite a bit thicker than Robbie’s own, but Robbie still has his moments where he’s pretty much unintelligible. Usually when he gets excited, or if he spends a while with Glanni.

Sportacus doesn’t agree or disagree, which is a smart way to go but Robbie doesn’t care. He’s not bothered about it, Sportacus’ isn’t gonna hurt his feelings if he agrees.

They work on the pronunciation for a while. It takes up a good half of the lesson since Sportacus’s accent is frustratingly unmalleable considering it’s just _one frigging word_ , but eventually it starts coming out of Sportacus’s mouth a lot better than it did before.

Turns out that that still doesn’t help with the actual spell casting though. The ice cracks, which is a definite improvement but it’s still not melting. Nevertheless, Sportacus is incredibly proud of himself, practically lighting up the room with his sunshine smile. Robbie thinks it’s disgusting. It’s blinding him, it’s awful.

The only other thing Robbie can think of being a problem is theory. Theory is the first thing learnt with any spell, and while a lot of people just have the general, basic explanation and methodology work for them, everyone’s different. Robbie uses channelling and visualisation to be able to cast spells, but he knows that’s not how it works for everybody. Glanni doesn’t usually use visualisation, for example, but channelling his magic the right way is very important for him.

“in your mind, how does the spell work?” Robbie asks. It’s not quite the right words, but he doesn’t really know how else to explain it. It just sort of _is_ , in his mind; an abstract, more than anything else. Putting that into words, into an actual _explanation_ , is going to be difficult.

Sportacus, again, looks confused but Robbie is determined to be patient here. If he gets frustrated now this will all go downhill.

“It’s... I don’t understand. I don’t see anything in my mind. I just do the spell.”

“You don’t?” Robbie asks, surprised, “not with any spell?”

“No?” Sportacus says, “Should I? have I been doing it wrong this entire time?” He asks, panicking.

“No! No,” Robbie hastily reassures him, oh _God_ a panicking Sportacus is not good at all, “no not ‘wrong’, as such. Just different, maybe.”

“I don’t understand.”

How to explain this? “The school teaches us how to preform spells and stuff a certain way, right?”

“Yes,” Sportacus confirms. Good, he’s following along.

“Well, that means we all get taught how to do things the exact same way.” He pauses for Sportacus to nod. He does. “But that might not work for everyone because people’s brains work differently.” He wracks his mind for an example. “It’s like… tying a tie.”

Sportacus tilts his head. “A tie?”

“Yeah,” Robbie says, “tying a tie. Everyone gets taught how to tie a tie the same way, right? But that might not work for everybody. My Pabbi tried to do it the way he was taught – the way _everyone’s_ taught how to do it – for years but he couldn’t get it so eventually he made up a _new_ way to tie a tie, one that worked for him. It’s different to the way everyone else uses, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong, it’s just different. As long as it works, that’s the main thing.”

“Oh.” Sportacus thinks it over. “That makes sense. So I know _how_ to do it, because I was taught how, and that way isn’t wrong but that might not be working for me.”

“Exactly. I don’t know if your actually using what school taught you or if you made your own way of doing it and just didn’t realise. Whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it the same way – your way – for all your lessons, and in others it _is_ working but for this it isn’t. You might need a new way for these ones.”

“Okay.” Sportacus agrees easily, which Robbie’s grateful for. Stubbornness or pride is not something that’s going to help here, but Sportacus seems very open to trying something new thank goodness.

“What’s a spell you _can_ do?” Robbie asked, “do one of those for me.”

Sportacus immediately cast a shield charm. A _Wordless_ shield charm. Robbie’s eyes widened. Sportacus could use wordless magic already? He was only a second year! Well, Robbie could use it too, but that was mainly because he magic was instinctual and-

Oh.

“So you don’t use any pictures in your mind for that? Or tricks?” Robbie asked slowly.

Sportacus shook his head. “Nope, it just happens. Defence charms are easy. I can’t do attack ones at all though, Íþró’s the same, though he’s a bit better at them than me. We’re both better at defence though, it’s much easier.”

“It just happened,” Robbie repeated. “Like… instinct?”

Sportacus perked up a bit. “Yes! Yes like instinct. I don’t have to think too hard about it, my magic already knows what to do.”

“Oh my God,” Robbie blurts. He was right, he was _right_. _“Oh my God.”_ Sportacus uses _raw magic_. Just like Robbie does.

“What?” Sportacus squeaks, “what’s wrong, is that bad?”

“No, no I–” Robbie takes a deep breath. “I just think I know what’s wrong.”

“You do?” Sportacus leans forward, bouncing on his heels.

Robbie nods. “I think so. It’s not an easy, automatic fix though,” he warns.

“Don’t care,” Sportacus says immediately, “tell me what you think, please?”

“All the other lessons, I think your magic’s working basically on _instinct_ ,” Robbie explains. “It’s like breathing; your body and your mind already know what to do so you don’t even have to think about it, it just _happens_. Your magic’s doing the same. In those other lessons your magic already knows what it’s doing, you don’t really have to do much besides a slight bit of directing with your wand, it’s an instinct.” He’s waving his arms now and he knows it but he’s too caught up in what he’s saying to explain it. And besides, gesticulating helps him think. “You just don’t _have_ an instinct for these lessons, so your magic just isn’t doing anything. It doesn’t know what to do, and because you don’t know how to _tell_ it what to do since you’ve never had to do that before, it just sort of… sits there.”

He’s a little out of breath by the time he’s finished, hands flapping wildly around and his nose is twitching, he can feel it. He freezes, looking over to Sportacus.

The Hufflepuff is watching Robbie intently, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by Robbie’s actions at all. He seems to be thinking very hard about what Robbie’s just said.

“That…” Sportacus says after a moment, “makes sense? I think.” He tilts his head a little, running the idea through his brain. “Yeah… yeah! So what I need to do is learn how to tell my magic to do things?”

“I think so.”

“Okay,” Sportacus said, “how do I do that?”

Visualisation and control. If it could work for Robbie, it could work for Sportacus, right? Robbie pulled the cup closer to them. It was half-melted by now so Robbie quickly re-froze it.

“Right,” Robbie said. “Look at the ice in that cup,” he told Sportacus, “picture the ice melting, picture exactly what you want to happen when you cast the spell, imagine it happening in your mind.”

Sportacus stared hard at the cup, concentrating.

“Do it a couple of times to smooth the picture out, so it’s like watching a little film in your mind,” he instructed softly.

The Hufflepuff watched the cup, and after a few minutes he looked up. “I got it.”

“Okay, okay,” Robbie took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain the next bit. God, it was so hard to explain a _feeling_. “Now… do that again, imagine it again, but this time picture your magic with it – _feel_ it, if you can. If it helps to picture your magic as a literal thing, like some sort of visible power, do that.” Ugh, this was so difficult. He sounded so _stupid_. “Picture it going down your arm, through your wand and _see_ it melt the water, _see_ it physically doing what you want.”

“Alright.” Sportacus said quietly. He stared at the cup again for a little bit, and a couple of times Robbie saw him lift his arm a little.

“If you have to lift your arm, lift your darn arm” Robbie huffed. “If it helps, _do_ it.”

Sheepishly, Sportacus lifted his arm, smiling. After a few more seconds of shifting his gaze back and forth between his arm and the cup, he looked back up and caught Robbie’s eyes. “Got it.”

“Good,” Robbie said. “Now do it.” He crossed his arms and nodded his head at the cup. “Do it, but with your actual magic this time. Take it down the path you just saw it, push it a little if you have to – but not too much,” he added hastily, “don’t have an accident.”

Sportacus nodded, raising his wand.

“Tell your magic what you want it to do, take it through the steps it has to take.”

Sportacus focused on the cup and repeated the incantation, his accent no longer clouding it as badly as before, and preformed the wand movement.

It wasn’t instantaneous. There was no flash, bang and then bam, a cup of water just sat there. It took a few seconds, but slowly, oh so slowly, the ice started to melt.

It didn’t melt all the way, but when Sportacus put his arm down, breathing heavily, there was an icy mush sitting in the cup. It wasn’t all the way melted, but it was apparently enough for Sportacus to treat Robbie to the most blinding smile he’d ever seen in his life, the wild joy in the Hufflepuff’s eyes scaring Robbie.

“I did it,” Sportacus gasped, “I did it!”

“Mostly,” Robbie said. “Mostly, you did it. Well, um. Well done.”

“Thanks,” Sportacus said, smiling softly.

Robbie spluttered out some sort of noise and started gathering his things, stuffing them into his bag. He couldn’t vanish the water yet so he quickly opened a window and threw it out, ignoring the screech that sounded form the grounds outside, and threw the cup in his bag.

“Wh- but we still have five minutes left!” Sportacus spluttered as Robbie hurried past him.

“Consider it a reward for the slush,” Robbie squeaked back. He had to get away from that _stupid_ smile. “Practice!”

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie spends all of Wednesday and Thursday avoiding Sportacus, which is particularly hard, because not only do he and Sportacus share most of their lessons, but the darn Hufflepuff keeps catching him in the halls, even more than usual. He has to settle for avoiding Sportacus’s gaze instead, keeping his eye either on the teacher or his work – or the floor, if in the corridors – at all times.

Robbie doesn’t think he can handle another lesson like that. The smile that came with Sportacus’s succession… awful. Repellent.

And since the whole point of these tutoring session is to make Sportacus succeed…

Robbie is going to _die_.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time their session on Thursday evening rolled around, Robbie is seriously contemplating sabotaging Sportacus’s teaching.

He manages to make it to the library before Sportacus – thank everything above, on, or below the Earth – so this time he can have his minuet of preparation. He manages to get his things out of his bag before Sportacus flies into the room and _does a front flip onto the nearest chair_ , brandishing his wand like he’s trying to defeat some sort of invisible enemy.

Robbie quickly moves back before the Hufflepuff could take his eye out with the darn thing and Sportacus hops down from the chair to follow him and gets far, _far_ too close to Robbie’s face, babbling “I did it Robbie, I did it, I did it!” excitedly.

“ _What_ ,” Robbie yelps, stepping back and pressing himself up against the table, “ _what_ did you do?”

_Killed someone_ , by the way he’s bouncing around like a Fizzing Whizzbee.

“I did it!” Sportacus exclaims again, scrambling in his bag for something, He pulls out a slightly chipped yellow mug and – to Robbie’s surprise – fills it with water. Then he looks at Robbie. “Can you freeze that for me, please?”

He’s practically _vibrating_ with eagerness so Robbie doesn’t even hesitate, freezing the water immediately lest Sportacus has to wait another second and spontaneously combusts or something.

When the water turns to solid ice within the mug, Sportacus points his wand at it and says the incantation to thaw it. His wand movements are flawless, and his incantation is said clearly - his accent almost non-existent, which is actually pretty creepy.

Cracks appear along the surface of the ice in the mug, only there for a second because soon the ice is melting. Within a couple of seconds, all that remains in the mug is pure water, not a bit of ice in sight.

“Oh,” Robbie says dumbly, blinking at the mug. The water is actually steaming from the heat.

“Isn’t it amazing!” Sportacus shouts, “I couldn’t do it at all on Tuesday and now look, look at that!” He points frantically

“I’m looking,” Robbie says, stills staring at the mug, “I’m looking.”

“I can use Aguamenti properly now too! I could do it okay before, but I applied what you taught me with the thawing spell to that one and now I can do it pretty much instantly!” He beamed, practically vibrating.

“Well, um,” Robbie sputters, not quite sure what to say. “Nice work,” he settles on after a few minutes.

It’s not high praise, particularly, but Sportacus still looks at Robbie like he told him he was the best in the world or something. It’s disgusting, how happy he is. He’s like a human sunflower. It’s terrible.

Not as terrible as Sportacus suddenly hugging him, however.

He surges forward and envelopes Robbie in his arms before the Ravenclaw has time to process what’s going on – and therefore duck out of the way. Robbie’s first instinct is to freeze, which gives Sportacus the few precious seconds he needs to whisper, “thank you,” into his ear. It sounds so heartfelt and honest that Robbie can’t even push him away, too startled. Instead he stays stock still in Sportacus’s arms, surrounded by the smell of honey and apples and sunshine, which is stupid because sunshine doesn’t even _have_ a smell.

(Except it actually _does_ and its main source is Sportacus’s hair, which is almost right under Robbie’s chin because Sportacus is so dang short. He hates it.)

The hug is actually only a couple of seconds long, if that, but to Robbie it feels like so much longer. He doesn’t touch people he doesn’t know, the only people who give him hugs are Glanni and his parents. Molly touches him a little bit, like shoulder pats and things, but she’s never hugged him. This is …weird. He’s not used to it.

Sportacus must pick up on that when he lets Robbie go, because takes one look at Robbie’s mildly terrified face and takes a hurried step back, his own face falling. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I was just so grateful, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s fine,” Robbie blurts out, because oh God a sad Sportacus is _so_ much worse than a happy Sportacus and he has to get that look off of his face _immediately_.

Sportacus doesn’t look completely assuaged, frowning in concern, so Robbie gives him a slightly awkward pat on the shoulder before he turns to his things on the table. Sportacus can’t see his face from this angle, so Robbie uses the opportunity to school his face into something non-freak-out-y as he fusses with the box of matches he brought.

“Right, um, so,” he manages after a few moments of fumbling with the matches, “we’re transfiguring these into needles.” He sets one out on the table, ready. “You can use what I taught you for Charms with Transfiguration too, but it might require a few more, uh, steps, with the visualisation steps though. It’s not harder, or different, as such; you just might need to be a little more thorough with the visualisation if you have difficulty.”

“Okay,” Sportacus says genially. He still seems a bit… less excited than usual, but the change in topic and switch into teacher mode has him letting the hugging thing go at least. Good. Robbie has tutoring to do.

 

* * *

 

 

“So how’s the whole tutoring thing going?”

To be fair, Robbie’s surprised that it’s taken him this long to ask. He knows that Glanni’s been _dying_ to ask him about Sportacus ever since Robbie had told him that he’d agreed to tutor him. It’s been almost a month since then – three weeks since he’s started tutoring Sportacus. He’s impressed he’s managed to hold until now.

“It’s going fine,” Robbie shrugs. He’s sat on the chair that’s usually over at Glanni’s vanity-thing, shoeless feet up on the bed and playing absentmindedly with his tangle.

Glanni, from his position sprawled out on his back across his bed, scoffs. “That’s it? ‘Fine’? Not unbearable or awful, or fantastic or amazing, or anything even slightly less vague than that?”

Robbie rolls his eyes and hits Glanni on the shoulder with his foot.

“Gross,” Glanni wines, shuffling away.

“It’s… going well.” Robbie concedes, because it _is_. It’s actually freaking him out a little bit if he’s honest, because he hadn’t expected it to go this well this quickly.

“Is he getting any better?”

“Yeah,” Robbie says, looking down at the tangle in his hands so he doesn’t let his smile show.

He really is. They’ve not had many lessons at all, but after that first one Sportacus has been coming on in leaps and bounds. He’s not exactly a sudden marvel or anything, but it’s definitely getting a little easier for him to preform magic – most spells only need a little bit of outside practice to be achieved now.

“And you don’t hate it with every fiber of your being, then?”

…To be honest, tutoring Sportacus isn’t actually that bad. Certainly not as bad as Robbie thought it would be.

Aside from the constant, agonisingly blinding smiles, Sportacus learns quickly and, more importantly, he _wants_ to learn. Every lesson isn’t some push-and-pull effort with Robbie wasting all his effort on teaching someone who doesn’t care. Instead, lessons are easy, with Sportacus always ready and willing and eager, perfectly happy to just let Robbie tell him what to do instead of fighting him every step of the way because of pride or ego or something stupid like that. Aside from being a bit easily distracted, he’s pretty much a golden pupil.

Plus, he isn’t just turning up, getting the information and leaving. He _talks_ to Robbie, he expands on points and asks questions, and actually seems interested in what Robbie has to say. He’s even started bringing snacks, since the latter part of the sessions are starting to devolve into general discussion and studying. It’s… not horrible.

“Not _every_ fibre of my being, no,” Robbie concedes.

Glanni chuckles. “Is he still being stupidly nice?”

“It’s awful.”

The Slytherin grins. “It seems to be a family thing, I’m afraid. I’ve known Íþróttaálfurinn for four years now and he hasn’t changed a _bit_ , so I don’t think little Sporty will either,” he snorts. “You’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Ugh,” Robbie groans, slumping back in his chair whilst Glanni chuckles again. He’s glad his brother’s finding him so amusing. _Ugh_.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Glanni says, “it’s not so bad.”

Robbie raises his eyebrow, because _wow, Glanni, wow_.

“I _mean_ ,” Glanni adds, lifting his head up a little to glare at Robbie, “getting a rise out of them is pretty fun. They’re so happy and uptight, pissing them off is hilarious.”

Robbie just hums noncommittally. Glanni might well love getting Íþróttaálfurinn all riled up, but whilst Robbie can barely handle ‘Happy Sportacus’ as it is, he’s also seen ‘Sad Sportacus’ and _no_. Just no. He has no desire to see ‘Angry Sportacus’ at all.

He leans down and pulls a Sugar Quill out of his bag.

“You want some more of those from Honeydukes?” Glanni asks as Robbie unwraps it, nodding to the spun-sugar feather.

Robbie nods, the Quill already in his mouth.

“Want anything else?”

He suckles on the Quill in thought for a minute. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, pulling it out of his mouth. “Can you get me some Peppermint Toads and some Caramel Cobwebs, please?”

“Sure,” Glanni says drily. “Hey, we’ve only got like, a term left of this hear. Maybe next year you’ll be able to just come with me instead of making me fetch things for you like your personal slave.”

“Oh shut up,” Robbie snorts, throwing his Sugar Quill wrapper at Glanni’s head. “You’re right though. I can’t _wait_ to go to Hogsmeade. It’ll be nice to be able to look around and choose things for myself.”

“Better for me,” Glanni remarks, “then I won’t have to keep buyin’ your shit for you.”

Robbie scoffs, “it’s not like I make you actually buy it with your _own_ money, I always give you mine to get it.”

Glanni looks thoughtful for a second. “True,” he relents, then grins and sticks out his hand. “Speaking of, little Robin, pay up.”

Robbie rolls his eyes and reaches back down into his bag.

 

* * *

 

 

They’ve spent most of the session covering the Transfiguration of beetles into buttons. It’s gone well; the beetles now transitioning from animal to sewing accessory almost seamlessly.

Even though Sportacus can’t stand the fact that he has to turn a living creature into an inanimate object, he doesn’t seem to be having much trouble with it, though he can’t seem to transfigure a button with any more than three holes in it for some weird reason.

That’s fine though. Sportacus had said from the beginning that his spells didn’t have to be perfect, and though Robbie _does_ usually try for that (he can’t help himself, plus if Sportacus can do it, why shouldn’t he? He might as well, if he can,) he figures he can let Sportacus off with this one. He hates doing it enough and the end result is only _slightly_ less than perfect; aside from only three holes, it is a perfect button, and with the amount of buttons out there Robbie is sure that there must be _some_ out there that have three holes. If it comes up in an exam Sportacus can just argue creative licence or fashion or something.

With the spell done with for today, Robbie just sets Sportacus a couple of very short, carefully written questions. A bit of extra study can’t hurt after all, especially for Transfiguration and Charms. The crackers Sportacus had brought had been finished a few moments ago, Sportacus chewing on the last one as he works.

Robbie himself – after transfiguring the beetle back and putting it inside the jar he’d brought it to the library in – had picked up some parchment and settled down in his chair, doodling.

Soon the doodles settle into something a bit more serious, and now Robbie’s working on a sketch for the innards of another Glanniator; the many little bots that Robbie designs for the pure purpose of terrorising Glanni. This one’s a bit spidery, and Robbie’s aiming for a pleasant scuttle that’ll scare the crap out of his brother at 2am.

He’s so deep into his drawing that he doesn’t notice Sportacus finishing his work and looking over at him. Sportacus shuffles over, unnoticed by Robbie – who’s far too amused by the thought of Glanni shitting his pants in the early hours of the morning to realise he’s being observed – and comes to stand silently by the arm of Robbie’s chair.

“That looks nice.”

Robbie jumps out of his skin, his quill flying from his hand and the inkwell on the arm of the chair wobbling dangerously. Sportacus jumps at Robbie’s jump, the two of them freaking each other out.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Robbie shrieks, “what the hell are you playing at, oh my _God_!”

“I’m sorry!” the Hufflepuff squeaks, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Robbie glares at him, huffing and picks up his quill from the floor. “Haven’t I told you before to stop sneaking up on people?”

“Sorry,” Sportacus says again, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor as Robbie grumbles and gets comfy again. “So what is that?”

“It’s a thing.” Robbie answers shortly.

“A thing?” Sportacus looks down at the parchment and tilts his head – and oh, how Robbie _hates_ it when he does that. “I like it.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Robbie scoffs.

Sportacus just shrugs. “Well you won’t tell me, so I can’t. But I like the way it looks, it’s very well drawn.”

Robbie huffs and wiggles around in his seat, refusing to let himself accept the compliment.

“I can’t draw at all,” Sportacus admits, “just stick figures.”

“Of course not, Sportadip-end,” Robbie says, “that’s ‘cause I’m better than you.”

Sportacus, the shining, impossible to offend paragon that he is, just chuckles. “Everyone’s better at something,” Sportacus says, “I didn’t know you could draw, though.”

“Mmmm,” Robbie hums.

“You’re very good,” Sportacus says, “I wish I could draw… _things_ as well as that.”

Robbie narrows his eyes at Sportacus. “Are you _sure_ the Hat didn’t consider you for Slytherin?”

“Not even a little bit,” Sportacus grins.

The Ravenclaw sighs and looks down at his drawing. It’s mostly done anyway, and they’ve only got five or so minutes before the sessions over. What the heck. “It’s a robot,” he relents, “I’m going to get a computer mouse from home, give it legs and teeth, and make it chase Glanni.”

“That’s not very nice,” Sportacus says.

Robbie automatically bristles; it’s not supposed to be nice, but calms when he realises that Sportacus isn’t scolding him. In fact, he actually sounds amused. “Nope,” Robbie confirms, popping the P.

Sportacus giggles. “Do you design these things a lot?”

“Mmhm,” Robbie nods.

“And you build them?” Sportacus leans close, wide-eyed and clearly fascinated. It’s… nice, to have someone interested.

“Uh huh.” Unsure how to proceed, Robbie figures he should ask Sportacus something. It’s only fair. “Do you build?”

The Hufflepuff shakes his head. “Not like that. I like doing DIY stuff with my Mamma and Pabbi and with Íþró, but I’m no good with anything that doesn’t come with instructions. I can’t really do anything for myself; Mamma is very good at woodworking and Pabbi works with Boats, but I’m not good at that kind of stuff at all.”

“Oh.”

“I think it’s very interesting though” Sportacus shrugs, “and it’s fun to do even if I’m not very good at it. As long as no one lets me help with something important I am good!” He laughs, and Robbie snorts.

Smiling, Sportacus moves away to start packing his bag. Before Robbie can even start the process of getting up – which, _ugh_ – Sportacus has already finished and is heading back over to pass Robbie the parchment sheet with his completed questions.

“Here you go,” he offers, then nods to the sketch on Robbie’s lap. “Let me know if your _thing_ works, okay?” He asks sincerely, before hurrying off. “See you next Tuesday!”

Sportacus is already gone before Robbie can formulate an answer, caught off guard by the request. “Alright,” he manages to say to the empty room.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie might have told Glanni that the tutoring is going well – and it is – but despite that, Robbie completely and utterly regrets ever agreeing to do this.

It’s been almost a month since he first started tutoring Sportacus, and if he thought Sportacus was being weirdly friendly before, its _nothing_ to now.

Instead of simply saying a passing hello if they happened to pass each other, or be stood near each other, now Sportacus _actively_ makes an effort to come speak to Robbie whenever he sees him, either in the corridors walking to lessons, or elsewhere around the school. He asks him if he’s looking forward to what they’re going to learn in lessons today, or how he is, or if he’s been having a good day, or just to say hello. He tends to stay away if Robbie’s already with someone else, such as Glanni or Molly – which is a _blessing_ – but still; it’s entirely too much of Sportacus and his stupid smile.

The only Sportacus-free time Robbie gets on his own, aside from sleeping, of course, is when he’s in the few lessons he doesn’t share with the Hufflepuffs, or in the Inventing Room, or with his brother and/or Molly.

It’s not much in comparison, seeing as Robbie spends most of his days with Sportacus. He sees him in lessons, outside waiting for lessons, going to lessons, in the halls and the rest of the school in general, all three meals in the great hall if Robbie goes, and in the tutoring lessons themselves.

It’s driving him _insane_. Not just from the unrelenting friendliness itself, but also the reasoning behind it. Like before, he just doesn’t understand why Sportacus is behaving like this. They’re still not friends; Robbie’s just his tutor. They barely have anything in common aside from attending Hogwarts together and that they each have an older brother, and aside from perhaps a slight love of building things (that aren’t even in the same area!) they both like completely different things and have personalities on the opposite ends of the spectrum.

What perhaps makes this all even worse is that people are starting to _notice_ now, too.

Of course, they’d noticed when Sportacus had initially started being friendly towards him, little hello’s and things here and there earlier in the year. He and Sportacus have always had the occasional odd look wherever they went; Robbie’s seen them whisper in the hallways, and in class, watching the two of them when Sportacus interacts with him.

Now though, with Sportacus ‘upping-the anti’, so to speak, people are _really_ starting to look. They’re just as confused as Robbie is, all wondering why Sportacus – popular, lovable, golden-boy Sportacus – is willingly spending so much time with the sour, grumpy weird kid who hates everybody. Especially when said sour, grumpy weird kid seemingly isn’t having any of it. They’re baffled as to why the second-year golden boy is putting so much effort into conversing with Robbie, and continuing to do so despite being shown no reciprocation.

At first, they all seem to think that it’s a long game; a joke or trick of some kind, or that Sportacus is just taking pity on him. Robbie doesn’t blame them, he’s spent quite a bit of time in the past wondering the same. He doesn’t think that anymore – Sportacus doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, and he seems way too _genuine_ for it to be out of pity – but, like them, he’s also kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Sportacus to go away and go back to his other friends.

He doesn’t though, and people keep wondering.

Until, that is, they pick up on the fact that Sportacus’s grades are starting to improve as well. Then they begin to put two and two together.

To be honest, Robbie’s surprised any of them are having to do any kind of math at all. He’d assumed that Sportacus would’ve told everybody that Robbie was tutoring him. Not to be a dick; Sportacus just isn’t like that, annoyingly. Robbie just thought that he would’ve told _someone_ he was getting help – he’s one of those ‘anyone should ask for help’ people, so he wouldn’t be ashamed about it – and word would’ve spread from there.

Instead, he’s apparently kept it to himself which is… interesting. It worries Robbie, for some reason. He has no idea why Sportacus _wouldn’t_ tell anyone after all. _Is_ he ashamed? Robbie really doesn’t think so, but what does he know? They aren’t friends, Robbie surely doesn’t know him well enough to know what’s going on in his head. He could be ashamed, either because he has to ask for help, or because Robbie is the one he’s getting it from. Or does he just not think it’s an important enough thing to mention to anyone? Did he forget? Is he just private?

Robbie doesn’t want to think about it. It’s just making him sad. It’s dumb; plus, Sportacus won’t be overthinking any of this – heck, Sportacus barely even _notices_ any of this. Well, actually he _does_ , Robbie knows he does; it’d be impossible not to, the looks and the whispers aren’t subtle any more, (not that they ever really were,) and they’re literally everywhere he and Sportacus go.

That’s actually the worst thing about it, because Sportacus _does_ notice, he just… doesn’t _care_. The behaviour of their peers hasn’t made a mite of difference to what Sportacus does with Robbie, which Robbie can respect – he wouldn’t let someone’s opinion of him or what he’s doing stop him from doing things he enjoys either, he does what he wants – but still, Robbie is really weirded out by all of this, and Sportacus is just as happy and smiley as always, no sign of worry or some internal struggle at all.

Robbie can’t figure it out. He can’t figure any of this out.

He doesn’t understand why Sportacus hasn’t told anyone that Robbie’s tutoring him, he doesn’t understand why Sportacus isn’t as freaked-out by everyone else’s freak-out as Robbie is, and he doesn’t at _all_ understand why Sportacus continues to be as friendly to him as he is. Being amicable and polite for the sake of tutoring is one thing, but that’s not just it. He’s not… He _cares_. He _interacts_ with Robbie, even though there’s no obligation to whatsoever; all he has to do really is come to the sessions, learn, and go. He doesn’t have to speak to Robbie about anything else but he does, he speaks to Robbie about non-work topics and takes interest in what Robbie’s doing or what he enjoys, he tells Robbie about his brother and brings food and makes awful attempts at telling jokes. The other day he made a joke about something called an ‘updog’, which Robbie didn’t get (and still doesn’t,) but Sportacus had laughed like it was the funniest thing on earth.

He does all of those things for no reason whatsoever other than the fact that he honestly, genuinely seems to want to, and Robbie can’t figure out for the life of him **_why_**.

Honestly, this whole thing is so confusing.

Robbie kind of wishes that he hadn’t agreed to do it.

Kind of.


	7. 2nd Year, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Robbie's second year at Hogwarts ends, he finds that he's having a lot more fun than he did at the end of his first.
> 
> It's _certainly _more surprising.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so ,sorry for the long wait! I started trying to write to many things at once and ruined my motivation :P
> 
> (I also went to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean and my old OC reminded me of her existence and consumed my imagination for a week so. Yeah. Apologies. Hopefully now that she’s been re-vamped a bit she’ll calm down and let me write more AFTK!)

Robbie is peacefully looking up the history of Tickling Charms – for class, honestly – when his brother barges through the library doors. Robbie’s sat near the back of the library in a secluded corner that protects him from prying eyes; he’s unable to see the door from here, but he knows that it’s Glanni who comes in purely from the _ruckus_ he’s making.

Robbie quickly shoves his books and papers into his bag so he can get Glanni and get him out of there before the librarian actually kills him, but his brother apparently knows him well enough to know exactly where in the library Robbie will be and finds him first, swinging around the corner of a bookshelf like a particularly glamorous monkey around a tree trunk.

Despite apparently needing many loud words for the entering of the library, not a single one is required for the exiting of it, as Glanni just grabs Robbie by the arm and drags him out without telling him what the heck is going on, which is pretty typical. The only thing Glanni does do is wink at the looking librarian on the way out.

Clearly Robbie won’t be seeing his dear, darling brother for the next couple of nights because that is at least four detentions right there.

They join the tail-end of the crowd of students that’s flowing out of the castle, all of them whispering excitedly about the upcoming Quiddit– oh.

“You’re taking me to the Quidditch match?” Robbie asks, bewildered. “Why?”

Glanni just hums in a creepily delighted way and continues to pull Robbie past the crowd of people. Robbie hates crowds, but Glanni keeps them on the outside of the crowd and make sure Robbie is directly behind him at all times so he can be his little brothers crowd-buffer – something Glanni’s loudness and general ‘move, bitch’ attitude makes him perfect for – and they slip along the corridor walls pretty easily.

They make their way outside the castle and down to the pitch in silence, Glanni still refusing to tell Robbie why he’s bring him. Robbie suspects he’s not going to get an answer at all. It could be an excuse for Glanni to attend – everyone knows that the Slytherin has no real interest in Quidditch, perhaps Robbie’s gonna become Glanni’s Quidditch-beard, so to speak. The thought makes Robbie snort, which, Glanni doesn’t even bat a perfectly mascara’d eyelash at because snorting randomly to himself isn’t out of character for him.

Robbie has a feeling he knows the actual reason, though. Glanni and Robbie, of course, hang out quite regularly despite the house and age differences and all the schoolwork they have, but he still manages to appear exactly when Robbie needs him most – like some sort of distressed Glæpur homing-beacon.

Lately, with all the stares and the whispers that have arisen over tutoring Sportacus, Robbie hasn’t been feeling his best. He hasn’t really shown it outwards, he doesn’t think – not too much anyway – but he doesn’t need to for Glanni to be able to tell. In all fairness, he supposes that it could just be a coincidence… Glanni showing up to take him to a Quidditch match _just_ when the pressure of everything is really starting to get too much.

…Yeah, Robbie doesn’t think so.

There’s no one waiting for them outside the stands this time, and since the weather’s considerably warmer than the last time Robbie came to a Quidditch match, he doesn’t have to wait for five minutes to steal Glanni’s clothes before they can head up into the stands. Instead, Glanni just pulls him briefly aside to perform a _Muffliato_ and then drags him up the stairs to the Slytherin stands.

Judging by the sea of blue that greets him once he reaches the top, he can make the guess that Ravenclaw is definitely one of the playing teams today. Since there isn’t a drop of yellow in sight, and the obvious fact that if Slytherin were playing no-one be wearing anything but their own house colours, he’s reasonably confident in his deduction that the other team playing is Gryffindor. His suspicion is confirmed when Glanni reaches into his bag and – to the disapproval (but not surprise,) of his housemates – pulls out a red and gold scarf to loop around his neck. Now that Robbie has a moment to observe, Glanni’s makeup is also clearly Gryffindor themed; bright red eyeshadow with metallic gold eyeliner and mascara, accompanied by a lovely, classic red lipstick.

The sight makes Robbie’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. Last time, no-one had been able to tell if Glanni had wanted the Gryffindor to win or not; this is… well, his allegiance for this particular match has certainly been made clear.

Robbie makes no comment and simply settles down for the match to begin. It’s still not a thing he would’ve picked for himself, entertainment-wise, but he’s hardly going to complain; time spent around Glanni is always time well spent after all. Plus, an excited Glanni is always an amusing one and if last time he came to one of these is any indication, Robbie is going to have a very fun time with his brother regardless of the setting,

At least he knows a little more about the game now than the last time he was up here – an occupational hazard of tutoring a Quidditch player – so he should be able to follow along this time, even if he doesn’t get that excited over it.

After five or so minuets the referee makes their way onto the pitch, followed by the teams. The Ravenclaws come out and the Slytherin stand erupts into cheers, startling Robbie. He automatically flings his hand at Glanni’s robes to grip onto, only for it to be prised off so that Glanni can grab it in his own hand instead. Robbie squeezes it in thanks.

When the Gryffindor players come out onto the pitch, the Slytherin stand predictably starts booing and jeering. Less predictable is Glanni cupping his hands around his mouth and screaming _“kick their asses, honey!”_ so loudly that it makes Robbie’s ears ring even through the _Muffliato_.

Even the Gryffindor players jump, swinging around to the Slytherin stands in shock. Robbie wonders how it’s even possible that they _heard_ Glanni – his brother has a set of lungs and a half on him, there’s no doubt about that, but the stands are a hundred feet high at _least_ and the players are in the centre of the massive pitch all the way down on the ground. Then he sees that Glanni has his wand pointed at his throat.

A _Sonorus_ , of course.

Robbie smirked as the Gryffindor team shook themselves and continued on to the pitch, Íþróttaálfurinn looking a little red even from this far away.

The match starts a little while after that, Glanni screaming himself hoarse as Íþróttaálfurinn racks up points. The Ravenclaws preform admirably of course, their chasers are truly very talented, but none of them are Íþróttaálfurinn. They do have a better seeker, apparently, as they manage to catch the snitch about an hour into the game, but between Íþró and the other two Gryffindor chasers it’s not quite enough and Gryffindor wins by twenty points.

Glanni is absolutely elated, terrifyingly so, and Robbie actually thinks he’s on par with the Gryffindor team members themselves, who are hugging and cheering down on the pitch. Instead of racing down the stairs like Robbie expects though, Glanni lingers in the stand for a few moments, fiddling with Robbie’s _Muffliato_ whilst the rest of the Slytherins head off down to the ground. When they’ve all pretty much cleared out Glanni takes him by the hand and pulls him down the stairs. The second they reach the ground they make a beeline for the pitch’s exit. Glanni immediately adopts what he thinks is a ‘cool’ pose leaned against the wall, chest puffed out slightly to display the scarf even though he’s also trying to seem as relaxed and nonchalant as possible. Somehow, because it’s Glanni, he makes it work.

Robbie just stands off to the side to watch, trying to make himself largely invisible as the Gryffindor players make their way across the pitch. He feels like a wildlife observer, although he’s not quite sure what exactly he’s going to witness.

The Gryffindor team are still laughing and cheering by the time they reach the exit, enough so that they don’t notice Glanni until Íþróttaálfurinn suddenly grinds to a halt and they all crash into him. The Chaser clears his throat as he and his teammates regain their composure, then offers a brisk nod to the Slytherin leaning against the wall.

“Glæpur.”

“ _Íþró_ ,” Glanni purrs.

“I didn’t expect to see you in my– in _our_ colours,” Íþróttaálfurinn says, suspicion clear.

Glanni smiles at him, pearly whites sparkling against his lipstick. “Well I know you’ve been so busy with your exams… I thought I’d be nice, for once; show a little support.”

There’s something _off_ about Glanni’s smile. It’s soft and sharp and wicked and gentle all at once, like most of Glanni’s smiles, but there’s an element of… realness to it almost. It seems genuine underneath. It doesn’t necessarily _surprise_ Robbie, but he certainly wasn’t expecting it.

Íþróttaálfurinn knows Glanni well enough to see it too and it takes him completely off guard, the chaser turning a little red. “Oh,” he stutters out, “well, then um, thank you. That’s very… thoughtful of you.” He nods to the Slytherin in thanks and then swiftly walks past him, the rest of the team trailing awkwardly behind.

Robbie watches the whole thing bemusedly, then grabs Glanni so they can head back to the castle.

 

* * *

 

 

Whilst the reaction to Sportacus’s tutoring is quite hard to bear, the actual tutoring itself is pretty easy, which is a surprise.

In some ways, it’s a little boring. Not that Robbie isn’t grateful, after all, it’s not exactly putting a load of extra work on his plate but still. A challenge would’ve been nice.

Robbie isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth though and he does enjoy the opportunity to be lazy about something. Not that he isn’t putting a hundred percent of his effort into tutoring Sportacus of course, but in this situation, a hundred percent just isn’t that much.

Robbie had thought it would be constant teaching, trying to find loads of little ways and tricks to slowly improve Sportacus’s magical ability. It still is a slow process to be fair, he didn’t become a sudden wizarding sensation overnight, but as far as ‘tips and tricks’ goes, only one seemed to be really needed with this. Once they figured out Sportacus’s main problem everything else just sort of fell into place. The rest of it is just practice; aside from some spells where extra steps are needed, there’s no actual teaching on Robbie’s part at all.

By the time summer starts approaching, Sportacus has pretty much gotten the hang of practical spell casting – and it’s only been a couple of months. Now they practice a little bit of what’s been shown in class to see if there’s any improvement they can make, and then Robbie gives Sportacus a spell from year one to learn. He does a lot better with them now, and starts moving through the list of spells Robbie made at a reasonable pace.

He won’t be able to get them all done by the end of the year, most likely, but there won’t be that many left. He can do them at home over the summer holidays, Robbie thinks; he’ll be perfectly capable and then he won’t have to start his third year at Hogwarts with a backlog of year one spells.

After the work on the first year spells it pretty much just devolves into shared study time. Robbie will set him small tests or quiz him occasionally, but mostly they just work on their homework together. They don’t look at each other’s work whilst doing this, Robbie expressly forbids that, but they’ll share facts and help each other find information and references and sometimes Robbie will help Sportacus with his English.

It’s… nice. Nice and easy.

At least one part of his life is.

 

* * *

 

 

Molly comes to find him in the library one sunny afternoon. She comes in with a lot less of a kerfuffle than Glanni had, in fact, she comes in pretty much silently. It scares the hell out of Robbie, deep into his essay on the restorative properties of Deadly Nightshade, when she appears around the side of the bookcase and says “hey”.

Robbie jumps, his flailing elbow sending the inkwell on the arm of the chair flying.

Molly snickers and goes over to _Scourgify_ the pooling ink out of the flagstones. “Sorry,” she offers.

Robbie doesn’t think she’s sorry at all. “What do you want, Molly?”

She waggles her eyebrows at his dry tone. “Wanna come see what I got from Hogsmeade?” she asks.

The final trip to the village had been that weekend. Glanni had come back with like, eight full bags of tricks and candy, more than enough to last both Robbie and himself until the holidays came. He’d also gotten himself a very nice silken summer scarf. It was pink and it had little white batik-style dots on. He hadn’t mentioned anything that Molly had gotten, though.

“Sure,” he shrugs, and starts packing his things in his bag. Honestly, if being kidnapped is going to become a regular thing Robbie might have to start spending more time in the Inventing Room during the day so he can actually get some work done.

“You don’t have to come if you’re busy ya know,” Molly says wryly, watching him roll his essay up with a forlorn look. “Just thought you could use a break.”

“It’s fine,” Robbie says honestly, “I hate writing essays. I’ll take the break.”

“Essays suck,” Molly agrees, and Robbie snorts.

“They sure do.”

She takes him up to the Slytherin dorms with her. She can’t take him up to her room because of the charmed staircases, so Robbie waits outside the entrance whilst Molly dashes through to grab her ‘bag of many things’, as she calls it. When she returns, she leads him to a secluded corner of the dungeons that Robbie will absolutely not be able to find his way back out of, and casts a few spells so they can sit down without getting mildew up their butts. Robbie is very thankful for this.

As soon as they’ve sat down, Molly starts pulling things out of the bag. Robbie watches in awe as she takes cool thing after cool thing out and shows it to him. Some of the best include quills designed to replace innocent words with much, much less innocent ones; fake slugs – which are apparently going to be magically animated and put in Glanni’s bed; miniature whoopee cushions – the size of a knut but even louder than a regular whoopee cushion – which Robbie expects to find in the most inconvenient of places; and rubber bats which she intends to let loose in the boys bathroom.

A second bag bears the name of a shop that that Robbie knows well, even though he’s never been there. Corinne’s Cosmetics has been a staple of Glanni’s ever since his second year. “Your brother turned me on to these, you know,” Molly tells him, “took me to the shop in our third year and I’ve never looked back.” She reaches into the bag and lifts out a large bottle of pink and yellow swirled liquid. “Rhubarb and custard bubble bath,” she announces, popping the cap and passing it to him, “I swear by this stuff. I’d eat it if I could.”

Well, Robbie can certainly agree with _that_. Truly, when he sniffs the liquid inside it smells exactly how rhubarb and custard sweets taste. Incredible.

Molly grins as Robbie practically starts salivating in front of her and takes the bottle back. I usually stuff from Corinne’s at the beginning of the year and then top up if I need to,” she explains, “but this one’s gonna be a home supply, and _these_ –” she produces a couple of bags of mini-bath bombs, “are for my mum. Here, this one smells like carrot cake.”

Robbie sniffs the offered bag of bombs and it does, indeed, smell like carrot cake. It’s wonderful.

“When we get to fifth year, I’m gonna put my name down to be a Prefect.” Molly rolls the bomb-bag around in her palm for a moment before picking up another one, which she hands to Robbie. This one smells like toffee.

“I really wanna be a prefect, ya know,” she tells him softly, “and I’m not just saying that because of the baths.”

 _Oh_ , the prefect baths. Robbie’s heard about the prefect baths. Robbie’s had _dreams_ about the prefect baths.

“But if I _do_ get to be a prefect,” Molly continues, “I’m gonna buy a shit tone of these things and just _lounge_.”

“That is a _beautiful_ plan,” Robbie says seriously, foot wiggling against the floor.

“Thanks,” Molly winks at him. “Now, check out this cool scarf I got.” She draws the scarf out from the bag and shows it to him. It’s a nice, Slytherin green and has little white batik-drawn skulls all over it. It’s really lovely, and when Molly wraps it around her neck to show it off it looks good on her.

“Someone set up a stall in the village,” she says “and they were cheap and cute so me and your brother got matching ones. His is pink though.”

“Of course,” Robbie agrees. What other colour would Glanni get? Aside from maybe black.

“I also got you a present,” Molly tells him, and Robbie feels his eyes go wide.

“You got me something?” he asks, shocked.

Molly nods and reaches back into the Zonko’s bag. “Yeah. I saw this and…” she hands him a clear plastic tub. The label on top reads ‘Alec Normaindus’s best Ghost Slime! Slime your friends with invisible ectoplasm and scare them silly!’

“I had to get you it,” Molly says. “In the jar it’s clear but like, you can still _see_ it if you know what I mean, but five seconds after you take it out it turns completely invisible!” she bounces where she sits, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You can’t even tell it’s there.”

Robbie turns the jar in his hands. This is _magnificent_.

“You can do whatever you want with it, of course, but please please _please_ ,” she begs, “put some of it on Glanni’s pillow when you go home for the summer.”

Robbie immediately thrusts his hand out. “I will _definitely_ do that, you have my word,” he promises, and Molly laughs and takes his hand. They shake with the seriousness of a life or death pact – which, if this stuff gets in Glanni’s hair, it might be.

When they release, she and Robbie break out in to matching conspiratorial grins. The jar of slime goes into his pockets and Molly produces a paper Honeydukes bag from inside the larger Zonko’s one.

“Shall we celebrate the deal with some Tricky Toffee?” she asks.

“I think we shall,” Robbie agrees.

 

* * *

 

 

As Summer nears, the weather starts to get warmer. Up in Scotland, it’s not quite hot enough to be baking, but the increase in sunshine creates a pleasant heat that even Robbie finds quite refreshing. He’s not a big fan of being hot, seeing as it’s so much easier to warm yourself up than to cool yourself down, but he’s also one of those people that’s almost always cold, so not having to wear extra layers under his uniform is quite nice. Plus, it’s not too hot that he’s uncomfortable – at the moment, at least. That might change.

Of course, with the outside now a beautiful, sunny, warm haven to the other students, Sportacus keeps trying to convince Robbie to move lessons outside. The fresh air will be good for them, he says, and the nice weather will be relaxing.

As nice as the weather is, Robbie doesn’t actually want to be _in_ it. Actually being under the sun might cross the fine line between being comfortably warm and uncomfortably hot, and Robbie burns annoyingly easy anyway. He’s quite content to enjoy the nice weather _inside_ , thank you.

Sportacus, however, is not. Robbie protests, saying that the wind’ll blow away their papers, that all the research is in the library, that he’ll get distracted, but Sportacus finds counter arguments for all of them. He even promises that they can sit in the shade so that Robbie won’t burn.

Sportacus himself _thrives_ in the sun. His energy seems to have doubled, with every second not in classes or at meals spent running around outside with renewed vigour and his skin already turning a golden shade of brown. According to Glanni, Íþró is exactly the same, and both brothers agree it’s disgusting.

Robbie puts Sportacus off for as long as possible, but it’s hard; Sportacus doesn’t whine or wheedle, as such, but it’s like withholding treats from a puppy and Robbie can’t hold out forever. Eventually, he breaks. He writes his agreement to move the lesson outside in a short letter, so that he doesn’t have to see Sportacus’s stupid smile when he does so.

True to his word, Sportacus – smiling anyway – picks them a nice tree to sit under when they meet for the lesson, so they have a bit of shade. Robbie must admit that the breeze is quite pleasant. The library is never stuffy in his opinion, always cosy, but he can still admit that this isn’t an unwelcome change… to himself, at least.

The spell for today goes quite easily, barely taking half an hour of practice before Sportacus has it pretty much perfect. Robbie gives Sportacus a quick quiz on the spell and some of the other things related to today’s lesson, as well as a few on the topics covered this term. Sportacus is a fast learner though, and he absorbs information like a sponge. When the quiz is over, there’s still at least forty minutes to go before the end of the session, so Robbie just tells Sportacus to get on with some of his homework. Sportacus settles down without complaint, laid down on his stomach with his legs kicking in the air whilst he writes. Robbie, sitting against the trunk of the tree, pulls out one of his own essays – on the use of Domestic spells – so he can write the last two paragraphs and do the final read-through. It doesn’t take long, and within ten minutes Robbie’s completely finished with it.

To pass the last half hour he reaches into his bag and pulls out the music book he’s borrowed from the library. He can’t play anything until he gets home, but if he tries to memorise as much as he can now then it should give him a head-start when he _can_ play.

He plays the tunes through in his head, unaware that he’s being watched.

“What are you reading?”

The sound of Sportacus’s voice startles Robbie and he jumps. “Nothing,” Robbie tells him, hastily closing the book. He’s too late though. Apparently, Sportacus has already seen the contents.

“Is that a music book?” The Hufflepuff asks, crawling around to get a better look. Robbie automatically shoves it back into his bag, but the curiosity doesn’t fade form Sportacus’s face.

“It’s sheet music,” Robbie relents after a minuet.

Sportacus looks surprised. “I didn’t know you played an instrument.”

“Who says I play an instrument?” Robbie snaps.

Sportacus just chuckles and gives him an amused look. “People don’t usually learn to read sheet music if they don’t actually play anything,” he says dryly. “What do you play?”

“Piano.” Robbie says, if a little reluctantly. “And Cello and violin.”

The Hufflepuffs eyes widen and he sits up. “Wow!” He exclaims, awed. “You can play all of those?”

Robbie nods, a little uncomfortable at the praise. He slips his hand into his sleeve to play with his Tangle.

“Do you play in the school band?” Sportacus asks curiously, and Robbie jumps, taken aback.

“What– _no_ ,” he scoffs, nose scrunching.

“You should,” Sportacus says, “I think you would be good enough.”

Robbie splutters, waving his arms in the air to illustrate the ridiculousness of that, “you don’t even know if I can _play_ well!”

Sportacus just shrugs. “You are a fast learner. I bet you do.” He looks “and students who are in the band get to go play in the music room whenever they want. I see them all the time.”

He did? “Wait,” Robbie holds up his hands in confusion, “do you play too?”

Sportacus laughs. “Oh no, no I’m _terrible_. I do not have the concentration to learn something like that,” he says, shaking his head. “The music rooms are near the Hufflepuff dorms,” he explains. “Sometimes I go in to listen – they are completely sound-proof so you can’t hear them outside, which is a shame.”

“Not if someone wants to practice at three in the morning it’s not,” Robbie scoffs, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Sportacus giggles. “That’s true,” he agrees. “But I find it a nice place to be. It’s relaxing.” The Hufflepuff tilts his head at Robbie. “You should go some time,” he suggests.

Robbie hums noncommittally, then glances pointedly at Sportacus’s essay. “Have you finished?”

“Oops!” Sportacus giggles and turns back to his parchment. Robbie sighs heavily through his nose and rests his head back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes. He can doze until the end of the session. Hopefully if Sportacus thinks he’s asleep, he won’t try and bug him again.

 

* * *

 

 

After dinner that evening, Robbie goes to stand near the Hufflepuff dorms. He doesn’t know exactly _where_ the music rooms are, but he thinks if he hangs around here long enough, he’ll find out. Sure enough, after ten or so minuets of waiting, a troop of students go by and head down the hall. When they reach the end, they all turn to the left. Robbie follows them, trying his very best not to be really creepy.

The group pauses outside a huge set of double oak doors. Within moments, they all start piling through. After a moment, Robbie cautiously follows them in.

It’s a huge room – a hall, really – with high ceilings and a large wooden stage set up at one end, which has large, red velvet curtains and everything. There’s some general equipment set up at one side, along with some stacks of chairs, but the students he followed all head off to the other side of the room, where lots of lockers of varying sizes are set up.

Each student heads to a specific locker and waves their wand over the door, muttering something. Whatever incantation it is allows them to open them. Two of them pull out guitar cases, one a removes a violin case, and one takes out a pipe case. The other two don’t do anything, simply waiting until their friends have collected their instruments before heading back towards the door. Confused, Robbie looks back and sees that the wall next to the door is covered by tiered seating.

The two instrumentless students sit on the front row of the tiered seating and take some parchments and quills out of their bags whilst their friends pull some chairs from the stacks over to the floor in front of the seating and start readying their instruments. It’s a bit of a cacophony at first, with people tuning their instruments and playing practice chords. The girl with the violin plays an awful, screechy note that her friends laugh at good naturedly before she starts a reasonably choppy rendition of Bowie’s _Starman_.

There are a few other students in the music room already playing, and a couple dotted around the seating. They have essays too, though there’s a Hufflepuff who doesn’t have anything at all and is just laid on the bench, napping.

 _‘Fair enough,’_ Robbie supposes. He doesn’t think _he’d_ be able to sleep through ten different songs playing, but who knows. Maybe he could.

Curious – and not wanting to be seen walking in and then back out almost straight away – he climbs up the seating’s stairs to the top row and sits down right in the corner, pulling out his latest History of Magic essay.

He doesn’t get much done, but the experience itself is not altogether unpleasant.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie visits the music room a couple more times. He doesn’t visit the music room too often, since he doesn’t get any work done, but he finds it a good place to relax. Sometimes if he’s too tense he’ll avoid the place – too many people and too many mistakes with the music only serve to make his temper worse – but most of the time it’s a good way to relax when he can’t be bothered actually doing something; which counts reading or going to the Inventing Room out.

He’s discovered that there are communal instruments as well, all kept in a storage space on the other side of the tiered seating. He’s seen a few people go in and get something, he knows that they have mini-pianos – essentially non-electric keyboards – cellos and violins, and guitars in there already but he’s not sure what else. People seem to quite enjoy using them as taster sessions. He’s seen a guitar player go borrow a violin at his friend’s request (and had been quite good at it, considering he’d apparently never picked up one in his life he made quite a cute tune after a few minutes,) and a few students who’ve been brought by friends to try something out before they go home for the holidays. More than one kid is going to go home with a request for an instrument and/or lessons this Summer, Robbie can tell that for sure.

One night, two weeks before the holidays start, sleep just doesn’t come for Robbie. He lies in bed until two am, his usual mid-night wakeup time, before he gives up. It’s just not happening tonight, not for a while anyway. He gets up like he usually does, but he doesn’t fancy reading in the common room, and he just cannot physically bring himself to work on another essay. He’s too tired to do any inventing but… music might be good. He fancies some music right now.

He slips on some shoes and leaves the dorms, sneaking out of the common room unnoticed. Halfway down the stairs of the Ravenclaw tower, he realises that he still doesn’t feel completely satisfied with his decision. He’s reached the bottom of the stairs before he realises the problem.

He _does_ want music but… he doesn’t _just_ want to listen to it.

New plan then.

Instead of heading over to the third floor, Robbie instead heads down to the basement levels, towards the Hufflepuff dorms.

The music room is completely deserted, unsurprisingly. Robbie shuts the door behind him and immediately heads for the instrument storage room. He’s never been in before, but once he gets in there he’s pleasantly surprised. Most of what they have is quite basic, of course, but it all looks very well looked after and there’s quite a verity, which he wasn’t expecting. There are the ‘necessities’, he supposes; guitars, some violins and cellos, and some of the acoustic keyboards. But there are also flutes and oboes and recorders, some triangles and tambourines and the like, French horns, trumpets and saxophones, a frankly _massive_ xylophone, and even a couple of full drum kits. There’s at least two of everything – aside from the xylophone.

Robbie knows what he wants though knows what he wants though, and carefully picks out one of the cellos. It’s a bit big for him, and the bow has seen better days, but it’ll do.

He sets up near the corner of the stage, just behind the curtain. It’s past curfew, so if anyone comes in he can whip the curtain around him like he isn’t there at all. In his past, day-time visits, he’s discovered that – true to Sportacus’s word – the room really is soundproof. That fact that he won’t be heard at all gives him the confidence to set his bow to string at almost half two in the morning and play.

He plays well into the early morning, going through all his favourites over and over again just so he can hear them. They’re still a bit out of tune – this cello seems _ancient_ – but he can’t bring himself to care too much.

 _God_ , he’s missed this. He’s missed this so much.

After two hours of playing, he puts the cello away and heads back to the dorms. He collapses into his bed, asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He sleeps through breakfast and his first class completely, and he’s pretty sure he accidentally took a little bit of a nap in Charms, but it was worth it.

That afternoon, he goes to talk to one of the professors about getting a locker.

 

* * *

 

 

The last match of the Quidditch season falls the week before the holidays. Even though it’s the final, and he’s been to three this year, it’s still not a thing Robbie would really go to.

Usually.

This time however, the day of the finale finds Robbie putting as much green and silver on his person as he can – which is to say, not a lot. He’s found a nice, emerald green jumper and some black trousers. Luckily the weather is a little cooler today so he can wear the jumper comfortably. There’s not a lot of green in his wardrobe. This is about as much as he can do. The only other thing is makeup. He’s not very good, admittedly, but it doesn’t matter. No-one’s going to be looking too closely. He’s got a little palette of his own, from which he uses the green, and he’s stolen some of Glanni’s silver eyeliner – Glanni’s got two of these, he checked. It takes him twenty minutes to put on the liner, but he’s pretty satisfied with the result. It’s a bit thick, but it’s silver so Robbie thinks that that makes it a bit easier to see, and it’s quite sharp. Ish. All in all, pretty good.

He doesn’t have any paint, but he smears a line each of silver and green eyeshadow across both his cheeks and that does just fine.

He finishes minutes before Glanni flings himself through the door to Robbie’s dorm, which, _how_ , and lunges for his little brother. The Slytherin stops dead suddenly, and backs up a little, takin in Robbie’s outfit. His eyes widen for a second before his face splits into a grin.

“Well, well, _well_ ,” Glanni beams.

“I had a feeling you’d drag me out to one of these again,” Robbie shrugs, fighting the smile threatening to spread across his face. “I figured I may as well dress up for it, before you tried to do it yourself.”

“You little shit,” Glanni snorts, still grinning. The Slytherin himself is wearing a green v-neck jumper – thin enough to be a shirt, really – and black pants, secured with a black belt with a silver snake buckle. Very Slytherin, for the base. The rest? Not so much.

There’s a Gryffindor tie around his neck, acquired from somewhere, and his makeup is exactly the same as from the last match Robbie attended with him, only this time there’s the addition of stipes on his cheeks. He and Robbie have inexplicably had exactly the same idea, because instead of paint, Glanni has artfully placed streaks of red and gold eyeshadow on his cheeks. His cheekbones also have gold highlighter on them, which looks nice. Perhaps the most… striking part of Glanni’s look, the _pièce de résistance_ , so to speak, is an actual, honest to god red and gold feather boa, laid across the back of his neck and along his shoulder, the ends wrapped around his arms.

“You look…” Robbie struggles to find the words.

“Incredible?” Glanni offers. “Fantastic? Stupendous? Amazing?”

“Yes,” Robbie agrees. “All of those things you just said.”

Glanni beams again. “Aww, thanks Rob. Such a sweetie, you are.”

Robbie just nods and Glanni sweeps him out of the dorm without another word.

His brother practically _vibrates_ the entire walk to the pitch, apparently so excited he can’t speak – which is truly a blessing. The whole school is abuzz with talk of the finale; the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match has been one of the only things people have been talking about for months, which is how Robbie knew about it beforehand, instead of being surprised by Glanni and dragged down to the pitch without warning or any clue who he was going to be cheering for.

They see Molly by the first Slytherin stand. She high-fives them both and ‘compliments’ Glanni’s outfit, and then hands Robbie a Gryffindor scarf, which he dutifully winds around his neck.

“By His Majesty’s decree,” she tells him, nodding her head at Glanni. They both roll their eyes.

Instead of following her up into the Slytherin stand though, Glanni drags Robbie past it, taking him up one of the Hufflepuff stands. ‘A wise choice,’ Robbie thinks. Being a dressed in Gryffindor colours surrounded by Slytherins who aren’t in their own house colours is fine, but even Glanni’s not going to push his luck decked out in red and gold when they _are_. The Hufflepuffs are the most accepting of the lot; a Slytherin in Gryffindor colours with his Ravenclaw brother really isn’t going to phase them.

The _Muffliato_ is cast as soon as they find somewhere to stand, which is just as well, because no sooner is the incantation spoken a cheer explodes from the surrounding crowds as the Gryffindor players enter the pitch. Glanni whoops and screams as loud as his lungs will physically allow, which is _damn_ loud, but also throws in a few loud screeches for the Slytherins when they come on. Robbie think’s that’s quite nice of him.

The match begins with much cheering, as usual, and the familiar sound of Íþróttaálfurinn scoring goals – aka, Glanni screaming in his ear. Robbie spends a solid half hour thanking whoever created the _Muffliato_ charm.

After an hour, neither side is closer to catching the snitch – which Robbie is actually starting to doubt has even been released onto the pitch at all – and even though there’s still much goal-scoring, it’s pretty boring after a while. Kind of same-y. Glanni’s still having fun, but Robbie’s attention begins to wane.

He casts a lazy eye about the Hufflepuff stand, seeing if he can spot a mop of blond curls, but Sportacus must be in the other Hufflepuff stand. Robbie’s not sure how he feels about that.

“Foul!” Glanni shrieks suddenly, snapping Robbie’s attention back to his very angry brother. “That’s a fucking _foul!”_ He screams, pointing at the Slytherin Beater. “If you’re gonna cheat do it fucking _right_ , you dick!”

Robbie watches the Hufflepuff’s band around Glanni, outraged at the blatant cheating and hurling obscenities at the offending Beater. Robbie learns many new swear words that day. He also leans that the ‘peaceful, pure Hufflepuff’ stereotype is _bullshit_.

For the most part, anyway.

It turns out that the business with the foul is enough of a distraction for the Gryffindor Seeker to make a dive for the snitch – which apparently _is_ on the pitch – and catch it.

The resulting cacophony is unimaginable, and makes Robbie’s head swim even through the _Muffliato._

The capture of the snitch means that Gryffindor have won the match by a landslide of points, and students from almost every stand stampede down the stairs to flood the pitch. Robbie expects Glanni to take off with them, and is very surprised when he doesn’t, instead hanging back and removing the _Muffliato._ He takes his time with it, which is odd – oh, no it isn’t. Glanni must just be waiting for everything to die down so he can go wait for Íþró like usual. That seems a better plan to Robbie.

Which is why it’s so startling when Glanni leads him down the stairs and straight out the exit gates, not even looking back at the student-swarmed Gryffindor team as he walks his brother back to the castle.

 

* * *

 

Robbie spends the last day of term that year with Molly. Well. What’s left of it.

At the End of Year Feast last night – which had been more raucous than usual due to the Quidditch Cup being awarded to Gryffindor – Robbie had essentially eaten himself into a food coma. He’d slept straight through the night and through breakfast, and hadn’t even emerged from his room until eleven am. Luckily, for him, he’d had the forethought to pack the night _before_ the feast. And thank goodness he had, too. He couldn’t _imagine_ trying to pack now, jeez.

He and Molly meet in the courtyard and swing their legs on the benches for a bit.

“What are you doing over the Summer?” He asks her.

Her face splits into a Cheshire Cat grin. “ _I’m_ going to _Australia_ ,” she says gleefully. “I’ve got cousins over there and our families always try to see each other once a year. This time, it’s our turn to go to them.”

Robbie’s nose scrunches up. “Sounds hot,” he says. His palms feel sweaty just thinking about it and he rubs them lightly against his trouser legs. “Interesting though, lots of fun.”

“You bet our tiny ass it’s gonna be,” Molly confirms, “to all three of those things. I’m gonna see a crocodile.”

“Clearly you have a goal,” Robbie says.

Molly nods. “And a koala. I’ll take some pictures for ya,” she says, “and I’ll write you a letter if ya want?”

“Yes please.” It’ll be nice to hear from Molly, and it’ll also be quite fun to hear about Australia.

An quick-moving, very blue blur suddenly enters his field of vision. Robbie looks up to see Sportacus, dressed in the blue shirt and sweats he favours when not in his uniform, wandering through the courtyard. The Hufflepuff hasn’t seen him yet, but he _does_ seem to be looking a bit distracted, so that’s not surprising. He looks very fidgety. When Sportacus does spy Robbie he does nothing more than smile and wave, which is a bit odd. Usually he would come over and say hi. _‘Oh well,’_ Robbie thinks, as Sportacus disappears again.

He turns back to Molly, who’s been looking at him with an amused expression on her face. “Sorry,” he says, blushing a little. How rude he was. “What about you,” she asks, thankfully not mentioning Robbie’s distraction, “anything fun?”

“We’ll be going back to Iceland for a bit,” Robbie tells her, not even bothering to keep back his smile. It’s his home, and it makes him happy. “We always do.”

“Cool!” Molly exclaims, grinning back at him, “make sure you take me loads of cool pics for me, yeah?”

“I will,” Robbie promises.

“And make sure you write me a letter, at least one. I don’t care if you cram it all into an essay or something okay, you have to tell me everything; I’ve never been before.”

Robbie freezes. “Um–”

“I mean, you can wait ‘til you’re back in the UK before you send it if you wanna,” she adds, “sending an owl across the country is a bit mean I think. Even though Iceland isn’t that far away, compared to like, America or something.”

“Yeah,” Robbie manages to say. Maybe he can get Glanni to write the letter.

Speaking of, where is Glanni? He was meant to be meeting Robbie here so that the three of them could go on the train together.

Molly catches his sudden look of realisation.

“Don’t worry,” she assures him, “you’re brother’s always late.”

Robbie hummed. That _was_ true. Still… “If he’s not here by now we won’t be in time for the train,” he said, “the teachers’ll be mad if they have to wait for us.” He stood from the bench. “I’m gonna go find him,” he declared.

“Alright,” Molly said. “I’ll be here.”

Robbie went straight to the Slytherin common rooms. Glanni could’ve fallen asleep again, or be fussing with his makeup… or he could have forgotten to pack. All three were likely. However, when he enters the common room the few remaining Slytherin’s tell him that Glanni had left ages ago.

Confused, Robbie searches the dungeons; classrooms included. Perhaps he had to turn in some late Potions work?

Nope. He makes a trip to the kitchens in case Glanni had gotten hungry, but he isn’t there either. Starting to get worried, Robbie heads off to Ravenclaw Tower to see if Glanni’s gone to pick him up there, and just mixed up where they said they’d meet. He checks the library on the way there just in case, but there’s still no sign of him.

Robbie hurries along the third-floor corridor, determined to get there as fast as possible. He will not let Glanni piss off all the teachers by making them late. He will _not_. Half way down the hallway, a loud sound makes Robbie jump. Spinning around, he looks for the source but there’s no one there. Is it a joke? Is Glanni playing a trick on him?

The noise sounds again, louder this time, and Robbie realises it’s coming from the little caretaker’s cupboard a few meters away.

What on Earth…?

The noise sounds again and it… it _does_ sound like Glanni. It sounds quite a lot like Glanni. Confused, Robbie walks up to the cupboard and flings open the door.

Glanni is indeed in the cupboard, but so is Íþróttaálfurinn, Glanni’s legs wrapped around his hips. The two of them freeze as soon as Robbie opens the door, Íþró’s face hidden against Glanni’s neck. Glanni himself just stares at Robbie, eyes impossibly wide, panting and flushed. His lipstick is a mess.

Robbie slams the door shut and hurries back to the courtyard, face burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yes, rhubarb and custard scented bath stuff is a thing that exists. i own it and i love it)


	8. 2nd year, Part 6: Summer!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer following Robbie's second year. It's... interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (WARNING: Glanni does not have a good time in this chapter. It's not quite a panic attack, but it is not at all good. There is a lot of swearing.)
> 
> i don't usually do a summer chapter, and the likelihood of another during this fic is slim, but a lot of stuff happened that i felt needed to actually be included and not just sprinkled through the next year or so, it'd just be too much - so here!
> 
> (this so long oh my god. i'm so sorry.)

Glanni eventually turns up in the courtyard, almost a full ten minutes after Robbie himself had made it back.

“Where the hell have you _been?”_ Molly demands, standing up from the bench. “We’ve been waiting ages!”

From the corner of his eye, Robbie notices a particularly dishevelled looking Gryffindor enter the courtyard.

“Forgot something,” Glanni lies.

“I hope it was bloody worth it,” Molly huffs as Glanni slides his arm around hers and starts dragging her towards the carriages. “We’re gonna be late!”

Robbie quickly starts to follow them. Looking back over his shoulder as he goes, he sees that Sportacus has finally found his ‘missing’ brother and seems to be interrogating the Gryffindor on his whereabouts. Though blushing, Íþróttaálfurinn seems to be staying quiet, simply hurrying Sportacus in the direction of the carriages.

Well. Robbie hopes Íþróttaálfurinn tells Sportacus soon, because _he_ certainly isn’t going to be the one to do it.

 

* * *

 

The train ride back to Kings Cross could not be more awkward.

At the insistence of Molly, she, Glanni and Robbie are all sharing a cabin. Normally, this would be fine – fun, in fact – but now the three of them sit in absolute silence, the tension clear and unbearable.

Molly tries – _god_ , does she try – to draw the boys into conversation, but it doesn’t work. Robbie and Glanni are just too _aware_. Molly’s presence means that he and Glanni can’t talk about what happened – which Robbie is also taking as kind of a blessing to be honest – and Glanni can’t just start chatting to Molly as if nothing’s happened because Robbie’s there; a big ol’ reminder that something _had_ happened, and that that something had been _witnessed_.

It’s the big red and gold, unrealistically muscular elephant in the room; the elephant that can only be seen by two of them.

After ten minutes and getting nothing but half-assed replies or blank stares, Molly decides to leave the boys to their apparent weirdness and pulls her Mp3 player out of her pockets. Now that they’re away from Hogwarts, any electrical devices work normally so she plugs in her earphones and drowns out the odd atmosphere saturating the cabin with (what Robbie thinks is) loud country music.

The two brothers still don’t speak a word however, just in case the twangy country songs aren’t enough to drown them out. _‘Plus,’_ Robbie thinks, _‘it’ll be pretty rude if we start talking the second it’s clear she’s not listening. She might not be able to hear but she can still see.’_

Instead, they spend their time watching the scenery pass by, doing their very best to avoid eye contact with each other. When the Honeydukes Express cart comes along, neither Robbie or Glanni make any move for it. With an _‘are you legitimately kidding me’_ look, followed by an exasperated sigh, Molly takes it upon herself to buy out half the stock, reaching into Glanni’s pocket and pulling out his money.

She dolls out the sweets, giving Robbie an armful of Sugar Quills and a couple of chocolate frogs, and pretty much the entire supply of pink Coconut Ice gets dumped in Glanni’s lap. They both offer quiet, distracted thank-yous and start to nibble – _nibble_ – on their treats.

Molly just shoves her earphones back in – which are now playing what appears to be some nice screamo – and ignores them to begin making her way through an entire bag of Honeyduke’s Extra Chewy Pistachio Toffee.

When the train finally rolls into Kings Cross Station, Molly stands and removes her earphones. “Well, gentlemen,” she states. “I’d say this has been a fun trip but I would be lying and you know it.” She hauls her suitcase off the rack above her seat and opens the door of the cabin. “This has been weird as _fuck_ ,” she announces, saluting. “Laters.”

She turns and leaves, abandoning the boys to awkwardly depart the train on their own.

 

* * *

 

Luckily, their parents don’t really notice anything wrong, any weirdness or quietness they apparently just put down to tiredness or the long train ride. Both boys do nothing to discourage this, latching onto the excuse like lifelines. The second they get home, both immediately disappear off to their respective rooms for ‘naps’.

He has no idea what Glanni’s doing in his own room, but Robbie spends a solid hour sitting on his bed thinking about what he’s seen. Well, more the implications of it. What he _actually_ saw he wants to put out of his mind **_forever_**.

To be honest, what he saw may have been utterly gross, but it wasn’t all that surprising. Technically it was _a_ surprise, since catching the two of them… together in that cupboard was something Robbie really hadn’t been expecting, but the actual thing of Glanni and Íþróttaálfurinn being together wasn’t surprising _at all_.

In fact, Robbie was pretty surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

He was sure that this was the first time that had happened. It had to be. Even if Glanni hadn’t’ve told him about it – which he likely would’ve – Robbie would’ve noticed _something_. Glanni’s an excellent liar, and if he wants something a secret it will stay a secret easily, but he also wears his heart on his sleeve. Whatever is going on between Glanni and Íþró, it’s been building for a long time, a year _at_ _least_. If something _had_ already happened, Robbie would’ve known.

What he is worried about is what’s going to happen next. Of course, it’s pretty obvious that they _like_ each other, the whole ‘mortal enemies’ thing has been their version of pulling pigtails, so the clear step would be to just start going out or something. But Glanni’s ever been one to do things the easy way, and to be honest there’s a lot to consider. For one, they’re in different houses. That’s not a big deal in itself, but given that those houses are Slytherin and Gryffindor it certainly warrants some worry. Glanni’s friends are pretty cool and Robbie really doesn’t think they’d mind if he suddenly turned around and said he was going out with a Gryffindor – especially this particular Gryffindor – but just generally, like across the school? The house rivalry really isn’t the best…

And then there’s the actual differences in the two. Like, role-wise. Or personality-wise, Robbie supposes. Íþró’s a golden boy; the star student. Everyone knows him, and everyone loves him. He’s brave and smart and kind and good and handsome. He’s best chaser that the Gryffindor Quidditch team – or any of the house teams, for that matter – has had in decades. He’s good at all his subjects, and has never caused an issue for the teachers or the students, aside from getting involved in the occasional fight; which is always because he’s either trying to _stop_ one, or because he’s sticking up for someone else.

Glanni is… something else entirely. Robbie loves his brother to the end of the earth and back, but he’s a _dick_. He lies and steals and cheats and he’s sly and loves to cause mischief, and he’ll start a fight just for the hell of it – though he won’t usually be the one fighting. Of course, he’s a lot of other things too, like caring and smart and protective, but those aren’t really seen much outside his own house. He and Íþró getting together… well. It’s going to be interesting. The image it’ll create will get people talking, that’s for sure.

Robbie just hopes that ‘judging’ doesn’t come along with that talking. Glanni’s actually not done too badly as far as bullying or anything like that goes, seeing as he’ll happily go after anyone who dares, and Robbie doesn’t want it to start now. Certainly not over this.

And then there’s Glanni himself to consider. Glanni may where his hear on his sleeve in Robbie’s opinion, but there are reasons that it’s taken this log for anything to happen between him and Íþróttaálfurinn. And not just the peer ones that Robbie’s already thought about. Glanni’s tough and doesn’t seemed to be scared of much, but Glanni’s scared of a _lot_. They’re just not… _physical_ things. Whatever happens next depends on those things. He could run, he could ignore it or pretend nothing happened or try and play it down, or he _could_ try and make something out of it, but not what it actually _is_.

It depends on Íþróttaálfurinn as well, of course. This involves him too, which is another reason Robbie’s so worried. Again, its taken them _this_ long to do anything; Glanni may have been dancing around it but so has Íþróttaálfurinn. It’s a cheesy phrase, but a tango really _does_ take two. Íþróttaálfurinn must have his own reasons, and Robbie really hopes that they’re not anything like Glanni’s – or, _god_ , anything to do with what people will _think_. He’d hate for that to be the case, but it would make sense. Bad boys can do pretty much anything, but golden boys? Golden boys can _fall_. They’ve got a lot of stuff to live up to. Íþróttaálfurinn doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d let reputation get in the way of liking someone or going out with them, but _anybody_ can get bogged down by that kind of nasty stuff.

 _Ugh_.

Robbie rolls over onto his stomach and buries his face into his pillow. That’s enough of that. He’ll just think himself in circles, and speculating people’s feelings will just get him all worked up. Plus, all that thinking has exhausted his brain, and ignoring his brother for nearly four hours straight really was tiring. If he’s told his parents he’s going to nap then the opportunity shouldn’t be wasted, in Robbie’s opinion.

Glanni can have some time to calm down, and then Robbie can try and talk to him later. For now though, he’s gonna have a nap, in his nice cosy bed, in his nice cosy _home_.

Robbie smiles into the pillow. It’s nice to be home.

 

* * *

 

It turns out that ‘nap’ actually just meant ‘sleep’. He wakes briefly at four the next morning, thinks ‘oh my god, I don’t have class for six weeks,’ smiles, and then promptly falls back asleep.

When nine am rolls around, Robbie peels himself out of his bed and throws on his robe. Somehow, both his parents are early risers so when he does get downstairs, both of them have been up for at least an hour and a half. His Pabbi likes to get the plants watered and do the Sudoku, which means Mamma can then get the rest of the puzzles whilst she has her first cup of tea.

Indeed, she’s halfway through the crossword when Robbie wanders in to get his breakfast. He pours himself the biggest bowl of sugared cereal he can and gets his spoon. His parents know better than to offer milk – which makes things _gross_ and _soggy_ – but they do offer him a cup of tea, which is nice.

Of course, it’s just a front to start conversation on school, but that’s fine. He didn’t get to speak to them all yesterday after all.

Glanni stumbles down the stairs almost a full twenty-five minutes into Robbie’s ‘interrogation’, clad only in his (fake) silk robe, a pair of boxers, and his slippers – which are fur lined monstrosities that Robbie honestly doesn’t know how he can stand to wear. It’s like wearing furry ovens on your feet. Sweaty, furry ovens.

Robbie watches his brother choose a grapefruit from the bowl, which he then spares a moment of silence for, as the poor thing is then taken to the counter and almost obliterated with the largest knife in the house. Glanni then drapes himself over his stool and buries the savaged thing in sugar. It’s pretty much the only fruit his brother will eat, but Robbie’s not really sure it even counts as fruit after he’s done with it.

Within minutes, Glanni’s been sucked into the same interrogation, and Robbie happily hands the conversational reigns over to him, busying himself with his cereal mountain. He loves his parents, they both do, but everyone dreads the ‘what did you do at school’ conversation. At least they have a full term’s worth of material to pick from instead of single days, like some kids. Still, Robbie never does much, and it’s hard to make ‘I don’t do anything aside from study and write essays, essays that the teachers hate, and my only friends are Glanni and his friend because everyone else thinks I’m weird,’ sound very exciting for them. He also can’t say about the Inventing Room because that’s a _secret_ , and he doesn’t talk to them about Sportacus.

Likewise, Glanni can’t really talk about anything he does aside from a few of his more ‘cute’ pranks, and Robbie notices that he’s staying quite far away from the topic of his ‘greatest enemy’.

Nevertheless, together they manage to pull enough out of their asses to satisfy their parents, and the conversation soon moves onto what they want to do in the week before they have to pack for Iceland.

Glanni wants to go to the Theatre again, or to go to the cinema at least. Pabbi wants to take them to the park, and to the garden centre – unsurprisingly – and Mamma wants to go to the big homeware store nearly an hour away. (They all love that place, and spend nearly two hours in the baking section alone every time.) She says that can wait until they come back though.

Robbie just wants some time in his room, since he won’t be able to play or invent as much when they go away.

“We’ll be sure to make time for that, Robin,” his Pabbi says, chuckling. “There will be plenty of lazy days, don’t you worry. But is there anything special you want to do?”

Robbie thinks. “I want to go to the theatre too, and the café on Bridge Street… but I can’t think of anything else.”

“Well let us know if you do,” Mamma says. “For now, go get dressed, the both of you; it’s market day.”

Oooooooh, market day. Robbie loves market day. He wonders if the stall with the little chocolates is there this week…

Glanni grabs the remainder of Robbie’s breakfast, shoving dry cereal into his mouth as the two of them head upstairs to get dressed. Robbie lets him. With the size of the dark circles under his eyes, he thinks he’ll need the sugar boost.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week, Glanni’s back to his usual over-dramatic self, bouncing around the house and singing and dancing with no indication that anything ever happened. That said, there’s still a sense of… _offness_ to him. He seems a little _too_ much of his usual self; he’s over compensating, Robbie thinks, and the dark circles under Glanni’s eyes have yet to go away.

It’s still a fun week, and Robbie enjoys spending time with his parents and his brother, but Glanni’s behaviour makes him feel a little uncomfortable, especially since Glanni still hasn’t mentioned Íþróttaálfurinn. Not even once. Of course, Robbie didn’t exactly expect Glanni to announce that he’d made out with Íþró to the whole house or anything, but he still expected _something_ , even just a quiet whisper in Robbie’s ear, but no. There’s no acknowledgement of the making out – or Robbie being subsequently _scarred for life_ – and it makes Robbie feel weird.

He sleeps a little better now that he’s back at home, but he still wakes up at some point throughout the night. Instead of just waiting to fall back asleep like he usually would though, he always makes sure to go downstairs and get a glass of water or something. He doesn’t drink it, but it gives him the opportunity to see if Glanni’s awake too; either downstairs or in his room, able to be heard when Robbie walks by.

He keeps kind of hoping that he’ll find Glanni up too. Not that he _wants_ his brother to awake, oh no, if Glanni’s still asleep then good. But if he isn’t… it sounds horrible, but this is the time that Glanni will be most likely to talk – about Íþró anyway. Robbie doesn’t want to poke or try and force Glanni to tell him things, but that Glanni isn’t speaking to Robbie about this, isn’t even acknowledging it, worries Robbie. He doesn’t want to drag details or pester him with questions, but he _does_ want to let Glanni know that he can talk to Robbie if he wants, and this would be the best time to do it.

Robbie doesn’t see his brother up _once_ throughout the week though. Maybe he’ll manage to talk to him in Iceland.

 

* * *

 

Iceland is just as beautiful as Robbie remembers. He loves Scotland, he loves his house, his home, but at the same time… _this_ is home. Like, that’s home, but this is _home_. It’s a tough concept to explain but thankfully he doesn’t need to; the rest of his family understands, he can see it in their eyes.

There are two wizarding major wizarding settlements in Iceland. There are a few smaller ones mixed in with muggle villages of course, but as for separate, wizard-only ones, there are only the two; one near Reykjavík, which – surprise, surprise – is the bigger one, and one further north in the mountains. Both Glanni and Robbie were born there within the northern-most one. It’s were their Mamma was born too, and where she met their Pabbi – he’d moved up there from one of the smaller wizarding villages near Hafnarfjörður when he was a teenager. It’s _home_ , and they go back every year.

They always rent the same little house, but every year Glanni and Robbie spends hours just running up and down the stairs, bursting into all the rooms, shrieking and yelling and basically being loud and annoying little brats, overturning things and rummaging around, checking every little nook and cranny like as if they’ve never seen the place before. They run outside and romp around in the garden, and then charge up and down the streets looking at all the shops. Hardly anything ever changes, but they do it every year without fail.

For those first few hours, Glanni seems like his normal self again – his _truly_ normal self – and the two of them fly around the streets having the time of their lives. As the day progresses though, through unpacking and dinner, it’s quite clear to Robbie that Glanni misses Íþróttaálfurinn. He’ll get this far away look in his eyes, and look amused, but also kind of sad and wistful and Robbie knows he’s thinking of something he wants to show Íþró, or tell him.

Robbie understands. Whatever their relationship might be now, he knows they’ve had civil moments in the past where they’ve talked about Iceland. They may have been ‘mortal enemies’ or whatever but they still share the same true home. Even if they did _truly_ hate each other, they’d never have been able to fully ignore that.

Glanni and Robbie will always be able to talk to each other about this kind of stuff _,_ but it’s nice to talk to someone else too, someone who _understands_. He and Sportacus have had the odd conversation about home after all. He’s still quite not sure where he stands with Sportacus, but they still have that. Robbie knows Sportacus understands home like he does, he can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes.

Robbie wonders what Sportacus is doing for his holidays.

Has he come home too?

 

* * *

 

The house they rent here is a little smaller than the one back in Scotland, but Robbie loves it. It has exactly the same cottage-y, mansion-y feel to it, even though it’s a terraced type place, with big windows, cosy rooms that are always nice and warm (thank you, magical fires), and stone floors downstairs. The bedrooms all have big, antique looking dark wood beds, and there’s a nice, large kitchen. Plus, there’s a garden out the back for his Pabbi to avoid getting plant-withdrawal, which is handy – and also likely one of the main reasons they chose this particular house in the first place.

When Robbie and Glanni were younger, they used to fight for the attic room. It’s the biggest room in the house, and it has a really cool skylight kind of window thing and hardwood floors. (Robbie in particular thinks the hardwood floors are the coolest thing, though he doesn’t know why. Glanni thinks he’ll die of a splinter but fights tooth and nail for the room anyway.) This year, it’s Glanni’s turn to have it.

Within the week the place is covered in clothes and makeup, and there are at least three feather-boas hung up – which Robbie _knows_ his brother only brought for decoration.

Robbie’s room is on the floor below and it starts off quite tidy. He doesn’t have that many clothes so his wardrobe’s hardly overflowing, and his cello and violin sit nicely in the corner of the room. They’re big items, but it’s not like they can be messy. The carefully organized folder of sheet music that sits next to them has the potential to get spread about but Robbie treats them like sheets of gold. They only come out if he plays something, and even if they end up staying out for a few days he never ‘scatters’ them.

Therefore, the first few days, Robbie’s room is relatively tidy. By the end of the first week however, it’s a tip.

There’s tools and sketches and spare parts all over the floor, every available surface – which by the end of the month includes the bed itself – is covered in crumpled up paper and half-done inventions. It’s a hell-site and no one else dares to step foot in it for fear of standing on something important, but Robbie loves it, although as the weeks go on, it does start getting more and more difficult to find things.

The main benefit of having the lower floor room this year though is that Robbie can hear when his brother comes down from the attic room.

It’s nearly two weeks into their stay at Iceland when it happens. Robbie knows his brother hasn’t been sleeping, not well at least. Usually on sleepless nights Glanni would go downstairs and get a drink or something, just like Robbie does, but since this whole thing with Íþróttaálfurinn his brother’s been staying up in his room instead.

It’s almost four in the morning, about the time Robbie would usually be falling back asleep, when he hears a quiet creak from above. It’s the sound of someone coming down the attic stairs.

Robbie stomach twists. Either he’s gotten fed up of staying in his room and not sleeping, or tonight’s bad enough to make him leave, to expose him. Robbie’s not stupid, he knows that Glanni’s been staying in his room just in case Robbie’s up too, to avoid him.

He _hates_ that he’s made Glanni do that. It’d be nice to know what’s going on, yes, but it’s not about that. It’s not about getting information. It’s about comforting his brother and being there for him, and making sure he’s okay with what’s happening – which he clearly isn’t. That’s why Robbie doesn’t even hesitate in getting out of bed and putting on his slippers. Glanni might be mad at him, but Robbie can’t sit in bed whilst his brother is sad, he _can’t_ , so he slings on his robe and pads downstairs towards the kitchen – the most likely place in the house Glanni will be right now.

Sure enough, he walks in on Glanni pulling the bowl of left-over chocolate mousse from last night’s desert. Glanni hears him walk in and jumps, whirling to face Robbie.

He looks _awful_. His hair’s all stuck up and he doesn’t have anything on except an oversized, foundation stained sleep shirt and some underwear. He isn’t wearing a trace of makeup himself, which is good because his eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks are blotchy and shiny with tears, and his lips have been bitten almost to the point of bleeding.

He stands in front of the fridge with wide, teary eyes, clutching the bowl of mousse to his chest like some sort of pudding goblin.

“What are you doing up?” Glanni asks. His voice is shaky.

“I heard you get up,” Robbie replies, truthfully. No sense in lying to him. His first instinct is to ask Glanni if he’s okay, but it’s pretty clear he’s not. It’s kind of funny; Robbie’s spent three weeks wanting to talk to Glanni but now that he can, he doesn’t actually know what to say.

Glanni doesn’t either, from the looks of things. He just stares warily at Robbie.

Eventually, after what seems like forever, Glanni just shuts the fridge and walks past him, grabbing a packet of sugar mice of the side as he does so. Robbie lets out a breath, then follows him.

Glanni goes to sit in the front room, curling into the corner of the couch, bowl cradled in his lap. He digs the spoon he’d brought – a serving spoon the size of his hand – into the bowl and starts shovelling mousse into his mouth. Robbie sits next to him, though he makes sure to leave a little distance between them.

They’re silent for a few minutes, the only sounds Glanni eating and the clink of the spoon against the bowl.

“Look,” Robbie says eventually, “I– I don’t know what’s going on but… you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

Glanni stops eating.

“I’m not here to– to _drag stuff_ out of you or _question_ you,” Robbie tells him. He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. “I just… you’re not okay, Glanni. Whatever’s going on, you’re… you’re freaking out about it, I can tell. You don’t have to tell me what it is – I mean I’ll listen if you _do_ want to tell me – I just... you’re not okay right now and I want you to know I’m here, you know, if you need me.”

When his little speech is done, Robbie turns to look at his brother.

Glanni is staring straight ahead, unmoving; the spoon abandoned in the bowl. Robbie can see tears sliding down his cheeks, shining in the moonlight from the windows. He opens his mouth to apologise – he hadn’t meant to make his brother _cry_ – when Glanni suddenly slumps onto his side and buries his head in Robbie’s lap.

“I _really_ like him, Robbie,” Glanni whispers.

His voice catches on a sob at the end, and Robbie’s heart breaks. “I know you do, Glan,” he says, sliding a hand into Glanni’s hair. “I know you do.”

He lets Glanni cry for a while, stroking his hair until the sobs subside. He only moves to put the bowl of mousse on the floor so it won’t get tipped over.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen when we go back to school next year,” Glanni says quietly, after he stops crying enough to be able to speak. “We didn’t– I was coming to get you, I was gonna pick you up from your dorm. He found me on the way and asked about the Quidditch match. He was… he wanted to know why I didn’t stick around like I usually do.”

Robbie had wondered that himself.

“We ended up in the cupboard. When you came in we realised what time it was and just sort of… rushed off. We never– we didn’t–” Glanni lets out a pained sound and presses his face against Robbie’s thigh. “We didn’t say goodbye or anything. I don’t _know_ what’s going to happen next, we never fucking _said_.” Robbie feels something drip onto his thigh. “I– I don’t know what’s happening Robbie,” Glanni sobs, “I don’t know if it was just– just _tension_ or something, I mean, I– flirt with him all the time, I’m always teasing – I _know_ I am – maybe he just... maybe that was _it_. Maybe that’s all he wanted.”

“Glanni–”

“I mean he’s like, the star of Gryffindor – hell, he’s the star of the whole damn school. It’s not like he could do anything _anyway_ , even if- if he _did_ you know, _like_ me.”

_“If?”_

“Oh come _on_ Robbie,” Glanni snaps, “fucking _look_ at me. He wouldn’t- He could have anyone in that school.”

“Yeah,” Robbie says, “he could. So could _you_ , that’s how people work. You can have _anyone_.”

“You know what I mean,” his brother sniffed.

Robbie smooths his fingers over Glanni’s hair in apology. “Yeah, I do. But I know that–”

“How can you know _anything?”_ Glanni hisses, fists clenching.

Robbie flinches.

“No, Robin, I didn’t mean it like that,” Glanni says, much softer. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I meant… _I_ don’t even know what’s happening. And you don’t know him that well… I’m not saying I do either, we don’t talk that much – but how could _you_ know and _I_ don’t.”

Robbie cards his hand though Glanni’s hair again. “Because I’ve seen you together, and I’ve heard you talk about him for four years now. He– he doesn’t speak to you how he does, or act like he does if he- if there isn’t _something_ there, Glanni.”

“I know that,” Glanni says, “but that something… it doesn’t mean he _likes_ me.”

“Oh Glan,” Robbie sighs. “I think it does. I really do.”

Glanni huffs. “Fine. Even if it does, that doesn’t change anything.”

“What?”

Glanni lets out a quiet sound and turns over, burying his face into Robbie’s “Well it’s not like it’d _work out_ , if something did happen,” he mumbles into Robbie’s pyjama shirt. “I’m– I mean, _fuck_ , I’m fucking crying at half four in the morning because of some dumb fucking snog in a closet. I haven’t slept properly in like, three weeks because of said snog. I can’t stop thinking about it, but not for good reasons,” Glanni rants. Robbie can feel his shirt getting damp. “God it’s so fucked up. I freak out all the time, like people touch my things or plans change or like, stupid fucking tiny little things happen and I just, I can’t- _I can’t,_ I can’t–”

Robbie bends over so he can wrap his arms around his brother. “Shhh, Glanni,”

It’s _not_ okay,” Glanni sobs, “it’s fucking dumb – who wants someone who _cries_ because they accidentally moved my fucking _mascara_ , or put the fucking plates back wrong? Fucking _no one_. He’ll just leave when he finds out what a fucking _chore_ I am to deal with. There’s no point in even trying.”

“You’re not a chore,” Robbie tells him firmly. “He won’t care about that stuff, he _likes_ you.”

Glanni snorts, awful and snotty. “Yeah? Well he fucking wont when he finds out what I’m _really_ like.”

“He–” Robbie goes to tell Glanni he will, but he can’t. The truth is, he might not. He doesn’t want to tell Glanni that everything’s going to be perfect, Robbie can’t tell the future. He doesn’t want to get Glanni’s hopes up, but he also doesn’t want him to not give this a chance.

“See,” Glanni huffs.

“He might not,” he says, “but if that happens then he doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

His brother sighs and turns onto his back. “Don’t be hard on him Rob, this shit isn’t fun for anybody. If he can’t deal with it then he can’t deal with it.”

Robbie hangs his head a little, contrite. “And if he can?”

Glanni didn’t answer.

“I just, I don’t want to see you miss out on something really good because you’re scared,” Robbie tells him, holding up a hand to stop his brother protesting. “It’s _fine_ to be scared,” he says, “I get why. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be I’m just saying you shouldn’t let it stop you.”

He can tell Glanni’s thinking it over.

“And for the record, I think he’d be alright.”

Glanni raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

Robbie shrugs. “Well, he already knows you’re… eccentric.”

Glanni snorts. “Oh yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes, “I’m the drama _Queen_.”

“I can’t see him giving up just because you have a tendency to overthink and cry a bit more than he thought,” Robbie says.

“And have panic attacks,” Glanni lists, “and have insomnia.”

“ _Occasional_ insomnia,” Robbie reminds.

“Still.”

“Just talk to him,” Robbie says. “I think he likes you, but you won’t know – or at least, you won’t _believe_ _it_ – until he tells you himself. Then you can find out what _is_ going on instead of, like, assuming things.”

Glanni stays silent again, but that’s fine with Robbie. He’s already done a lot more talking than Robbie thought he was gonna tonight – this morning? – and Robbie’s said what he wanted to say. Glanni seems a lot calmer now at any rate, and as long as he’s thinking about what Robbie’s said that’s fine by him. Nothing can really be ‘solved’, as such, until they all go back to school next year, but maybe this’ll ease Glanni’s thoughts a little bit.

Robbie notices the bowl of mousse on the floor and frowns.  “Do you want the rest of this or should I put it back in the fr–”

Glanni flings himself onto his side and scoops the bowl up into his arms, holding it protectively.

Robbie just rolls his eyes. “Okay, never mind.”

Glanni frowns at the mousse, then looks at Robbie as if he’s making a very tough decision. “Do… Do you want some?” he asks after a few minutes of deliberating.

 _“Please,”_ Robbie begs. It’s almost five in the morning, he’s starving.

Glanni jerks his head towards the door. “Go get a spoon then.”

Robbie doesn’t even hesitate, rushing off to grab a spoon from the kitchen – a serving one, just like Glanni’s, because he can – and races back as quietly as he can. Glanni’s already in the process of putting a DVD into the player. They can’t have the volume on because their parent’s might hear, but that’s fine. The two of them know this film off by heart anyway.

Glanni puts the bowl between them on the sofa and opens the pack of sugar mice. He splits them in half, putting half in his lap and handing the other half to his brother in the packet. Robbie watches him take one and scoop up the mousse with it like a breadstick in dip, then bite its head off.

Robbie copies him, which turns out to be a very good idea indeed.

They sit and act out the movie in whispers, making their way through mousse and mice.

“Hey,” Robbie says as Osgood makes his second attempt to flirt with Daphne, “I’m thinking about taking my cello with me to Hogwarts next year. They’ve got a nice music room.”

“Yeah?” Glanni says, pausing in his performance of Daphne’s rebuttal. “I’ve heard about that place.”

Robbie snaps the head off his last sugar mouse and dunks it. “I like it,” he says, “and I miss playing when I’m at school. It’d be good to be able to play whenever I want – on my own cello too.”

“You sure it’s safe there?”

“Yeah,” Robbie nods, “they have these really cool lockers – I talked to the teacher about them, they work on a password system; not only is the password itself unique, but the spell on the locker is also designed to react to the owners specific magical signature, isn’t that cool?”

“Hell yeah it is,” Glanni says, delighted. That’s some smart magic. “Not gonna join the band too though? You’re fucking fantastic on that thing.”

Robbie shakes his head. “Nah, I just miss playing.”

When the sun rises, the two of them turn of the TV and go put the bowl and spoons in the sink before heading upstairs. Robbie doesn’t question it when Glanni follows Robbie into his room. They curl up under the covers on Robbie’s bed and Glanni turns to look at the jar of bluebell flame on the bedside table whilst Robbie settles down on his back.

Robbie is almost asleep when he hears his brother whisper, “do you think it’s worth it?”

Robbie turns over and shuffles closer to Glanni. Robbie reses his nose against Glanni’s back and hears his brother give a shuddery breath.

“I think it could be.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of their time in Iceland passes quickly, unfortunately so. Glanni seems happier, his dramatics more real than not. Every now and then Robbie will catch him looking a little melancholy, or he’ll go a bit quiet, but Robbie does his best to stop his brother sinking too deep into his thoughts and he can tell Glanni’s grateful for it.

Robbie keeps track of all the cool things they do, like going to the markets and climbing some of the nearby mountains and hills. They visit one of the snowier parts of the country and Glanni beats the crap out of him with some snowballs. It’s fine though, because their Mamma absolutely _destroys_ him with some more later. They go to Robbie’s favourite café – which does really good cakes and the best hot chocolate – and Glanni’s favourite café – which does even better cakes, but slightly less good hot chocolate – and to the wizarding settlement in Reykjavík for couple of days, as well as Reykjavík itself.

Two days before they leave he compiles all of the awesome things he does into two letters; one for Molly, and a slightly smaller one for Sportacus. He wasn’t going to originally, but… its _Iceland_. Sportacus might be here too, Robbie doesn’t know, but if he isn’t then he can at least get a taste of it through Robbie. He’d feel bad if he didn’t.

When they get home again, the first thing Robbie does is re-write the letters. He does each one twice, combing through each draft for mistakes until he can’t find a single one. Then he attaches the pictures he took with his Pabbi’s camera. There’s one of his favourite café, the view from the tallest mountain they climbed and one. Molly’s letter also gets a picture of Glanni in the aftermath of Mamma’s wrath in it. Glanni’s covered in snow and slush and he looks cold, wet, and _pissed off_. He has a feeling Molly will frame it.

They’re sent as soon as their finished and despite his worry that they won’t be readable, he really can’t wait for them to be read.

 

* * *

 

Four days before they’re due to go back to school, their parents announce the annual Diagon Alley trip.

It’s a pretty standard trip; robes first, to get the long, boring part out of the way, then they go and get their books and restock their potions supplies, and then they get a couple of hours to do whatever they want.

This time, however, their Mamma adds an extra step to the agenda.

“After you’re done,” she says, handing Pabbi his scarf, “we’ll be meeting up outside Eeylops’s.”

“Wait, why?” Robbie asks, “we always meet outside the Leaky Cauldron?

“It’s a surprise,” his Mamma tells him.

“You’ll like it,” his Pabbi says, chuckling. “I promise.”

Robbie looks to Glanni, who is unusually silent. Glanni’s not a big fan of surprises, they’re changes to the schedule that he can’t predict and are therefore hard to work around. There’s no protest to this, however, so Robbie has to assume that Glanni already knows, or at least has been given some warning and assurance beforehand so he doesn’t panic. That also means that Robbie will get absolutely no information from his brother whatsoever. Glanni may hate surprises for himself, but he loves them when they’re for other people. He won’t ruin them for anything.

Reluctantly, Robbie agrees, and they light the fireplace.

They all go as a family to Madam Malkin’s. Robbie and Glanni have both had growth spurts over the summer, so they essentially have to get whole new school uniforms. The only things that don’t have to be replaced are the ties – though Glanni tries to barter for a pink one anyway – and their robes, which they brought with them to be magically altered a little. This of course, takes ages. Pabbi manages to stick it out for most of the time, but he eventually breaks and escapes to the outside world about an hour in. Robbie’s proud. That’s a long time.

School books and potion ingredients don’t take long, thank heavens, and after that they all split up. Glanni and Robbie head straight to Florean’s for ice cream the second they’re released from Mamma’s watchful eye and order the biggest sundaes they can. It takes them almost an hour of their time to get through but it’s more than worth it.

They both trawl through Septimus’s Second-Hand Books trying to find something new or cheap – preferably both. Robbie finds the first half of an interesting fantasy series, as well as some old mechanics books. Glanni finds a huge book on plants and their potion uses, a special cover edition of something he already has, and a sci-fi book that he buys purely for the fact that it seems to be one of those awful romance things that they like to laugh at. (Luckily, he looks old enough to get it.)

They also go to Scribbulus’s together, since they both need some more ink and parchment for the school year, but that’s where they end up parting ways for a while; Robbie also needs some new white ink and blue parchment for home and Glanni wants to do some other stuff instead of waiting. Probably to go buy more clothes.

As long as he’s at Zonko’s before they have to go meet back up then that’s fine. Robbie has other stuff he wants to do too.

His first stop without Glanni is Jacobson’s Junk; one of the quieter shops in Diagon Alley, but one of Robbie’s favourites. There’s all sorts of odds and ends here. Occasionally, something is just pretty, but a lot of the time there’s stuff for good prices that he can cannibalise for his own works. Last time he’d gotten an old TV and that had provided quite the fun.

This time, he manages to find an old set of scale-weights, an old crystal radio which is frankly just superb – Robbie might not even take it apart, just fix it – some big glass jars that will be great for storing screws and things in, and chunk of amethyst which is just darn gorgeous. There’s a crack down the centre that apparently makes it ‘almost worthless’, but that’s because people are dumb. Mrs Jacobson herself has also come to know Robbie as a bit of a regular over the years, which is why before he leaves, he gets given a big box of random odds and ends; wires, screws, circuitry and the like, cheap as dirt.

Thank goodness for shrinking charms and bottomless bags.

Robbie leaves feeling quite satisfied with himself. He might even see if he can fit some of it into his school trunk.

On his way to Rosa Lee’s for some tea blends and a cup of tea, Robbie experiences Near Death.

A shout of _“Robbie!”_ is the only warning he gets before something short and blond slams into him and suddenly Robbie is being _lifted off the ground_. He shrieks, too startled to do anything else until a call of _“Tryggvi!”_ sees him lowered to the ground.

“Hi Robbie!” Sportacus beams, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Robbie can’t do anything but stare and pant – not that he has time to actually say anything anyway because that’s when Íþróttaálfurinn skids to a halt beside his brother.

“Tryggvi!” The Gryffindor admonishes, “you can’t just _do_ that to peop- oh.” His eyes widen as he catches sight of exactly _who_ Sportacus was killing, and a stark shade of scarlet starts colouring the tips of his ears. “Hello Robbie.”

Robbie weakly raises a hand in greeting, too busy trying to suck air into what he is sure is a pair of collapsed lungs and trying to figure out if any ribs have been broken to do anything more.

“What are you doing her Robbie?” Sportacus asks, still bouncing.

Robbie rolls his eyes. “Probably the same thing you are, Sportadork,” he wheezes.

“Oh! Right, school stuff,” Sportacus laughs, then catches on to the fact that Robbie is still panting. “Oh, sorry. I guess I came on a little bit too strong there.”

Robbie doesn’t even reply to that, just glares at him.

“Where’s your family?” Sportacus asks, looking around confusedly.

“Elsewhere. We go our separate ways for a while so that we can all do what we want.”

Sportacus nods. “That’s smart. We do the same, sort of, because we always want to go to Broomstix and we tend to spend a long time there,” he jerked his head towards Íþró, who was still blushing intensely.

“Me and Glanni usually hit the same places, but I wanted to go to the Junk shop and to Rosa Lee’s. Glanni’s not really interested in that – and he prefers coffee anyway – so we split up for a bit,” Robbie told him, watching Íþró out of the corner of his eye carefully. The Gryffindor went even redder when he mentioned Glanni.

Adorable.

“You like the Teabag?” Sportacus asks, oblivious.

Robbie scoffs. “Of course I do. Rosa Lee’s has the best blends for miles.”

“Exactly!” Sportacus grins. “I’m not allowed to have caffeine–” and oh god, isn’t Sportacus on a caffeine-high an absolutely _terrifying_ image, “– but I don’t like coffee anyway and her caffeine free teas are _really_ good.”

“Most of them are fruity things so I’ve never had them,” Robbie says, nose twitching in disgust, “but the ones I have had are nice.”

“Did you say you were going there?” Sportacus asks.

“Yeah. I want to look at the new stuff, and they usually have free samples out. And I wanted a drink anyway”

“Do you mind if I join you? Íþró doesn’t really care for tea. He just likes smoothies.”

Robbie’s brain stops. Tea? With Sportacus?

“What’s wrong with smoothies?” Íþró demands, offended.

“Nothing!” Sportacus says immediately, “Smoothies are great, you know I love smoothies, but tea’s good too.”

This first instinct is to say no, but then again, it’s been a long, long time since he spoke to anyone except his family… And he can see if Sportacus has any knowledge of Íþró and Glanni- or Íþró at least.

“Sure,” Robbie says. “I don’t have to meet Glanni for another hour or so, so… why not? And he’ll take _ages_ in Madam Malkin’s anyway without Mamma around.”

Íþró’s breath hitches at the mention of Glanni’s whereabouts, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Robbie. Grabbing Sportacus’s sleeve he starts marching him towards Rosa Lee’s Teabag. “Come on then.”

“Oh!” Sportacus says, delighted. “We’ll see you later Íþró!”

“Yeah, um – see you later Tryg, be good!” Íþróttaálfurinn calls, already edging in the direction of Madam Malkin’s.

Robbie tries not to laugh at him as he drags Sportacus off to the tea shop.

 

* * *

 

They decide to browse first. There are indeed free samples on offer, of both tea and biscuits. Both of them try the tea – which is an absolutely _divine_ mint blend – but only Robbie can try the biscuits which is a shame. They’re really good, with toffee chips in them.

Robbie picks up a big bag of the new mint blend, as well as a little sample-size bag of it for Glanni. He might not be ecstatic about tea, but he does love mint.

Robbie heads straight for the sweeter section, grabbing a bag of his favourite mint chocolate tea, as well as the chocolate and hazelnut blend that he loves. There’s a cinnamon blend that sounds nice as well, so he gets some of that. He also gets some of the rose stuff for his Mamma, and a bag of the Sunflower blend and the Gardener’s blend for his Pabbi.

Sportacus goes for the fruits section, of course, and picks out some of the non-caffeinated ones. He picks up a white tea and strawberry blend, a Berry Bomb mix, some really wild sounding thing with passionfruit and blueberry in it, and a bag of the Spicy Ginger mix for his Mamma.

He also gets some of the weird jasmine bomb things that Robbie has never trusted, because honestly, who wants an entire flower in their tea? The only thing like that Robbie even _tolerates_ is Chamomile and that’s _only_ because it helps him sleep. (He sneaks a bag of that into his basket too.)

The purchase of the day though, is the tea strainer shaped like an apple that makes Sportacus light up like the _sun_.

He’s still grinning even when they’ve paid, ordered their drinks and food, and are sat down with said drinks and food.

Robbie has some of the spicy Cinnamon and Ginger Chai, and a large slice of their chocolate cake, and Sportacus has something really flowery sounding with cornflowers in it, which he adds a dollop of honey to once he gets to the table. Sportacus doesn’t get any biscuits or cake, but he does ask for a bowl of mixed seeds to snack on, the _squirrel_. He does, however, get the cherry that came on top of Robbie’s cake, once he’s wiped the icing off.

“I got your letter!” the Hufflepuff blurts as soon as he sits, vibrating in his seat.

“You did?” Robbie asked? That was fast.

Sportacus nodded, stirring his honey into his tea. “Yeah! I was going to send you one back but seeing as we’re so close to going back to school… I was just going to come find you on the train and tell you then.”

“O– oh,” Robbie stutters, surprised. He’s never had anyone besides Glanni and his friends to sit with on the Hogwarts express before.

“But I can tell you now – I went to Iceland too!”

Robbie almost chokes on his tea. “You _did?”_

Sportacus nods vigorously. “Yeah! We didn’t go for as long as you – we only went for two weeks this year, but that’s because we had to do some stuff for the house.”

“What kind of stuff?” Robbie asks. “Like building?”

“Mhm!” Sportacus hums. “Pabbi wanted a new shed because the old one is too small now, and we’ve been repairing the decking outside, as well as the garage. Plus, Mamma said she’d help build the neighbour’s new wall so. We didn’t have a lot of time to go away this ear.”

“That’s a shame,” Robbie said.

Sportacus shrugs. “Yeah, but it was still fun. At least we got to go there at all!”

“What part did you go to?”

“We went to Byrjunin!” Sportacus tells him excitedly, which was the wizarding settlement near Reykjavik. “Pabbi was born in Reykjavik so we went to visit family there too.”

“Cool.”

“I have pictures too!” Sportacus beams. “But I don’t have them with me…” he frowns.

“You can bring them to our next session?” Robbie suggests.

Sportacus lights up. “Yes! Yes, I can!”

Robbie rolls his eyes and take a sip of his tea. Sportacus mirrors him.

“You know…” Sportacus says when he finished. “Back when you first started teaching me… you came to the conclusion about my magic really fast. And you seemed to know what to do.”

Robbie freezes, the cup still against his lips.

“Is your magic like mine?

Robbie lowers the cup, thinking. “It’s… similar,” he says after a few moments, “yes. I have a lot of magic. It’s very strong. When I was a kid, when I had instances of accidental magic instead of affecting one thing like making a plant pot explode or making a cup disappear, I’d do big things, really big things. When I got to school I had some trouble–”

“You had trouble too?” Sportacus gasps.

Robbie frowns at the interruption, but nods. “Yes. My magic was there and it was ready to go but I didn’t know how to get it to do specific things, like with spells, because up until then I’d never told my magic to do things, it just _did_ them. I had to learn to tell it what to do.”

“Huh.” Sportacus says. “That process you taught me, then, is that what you do?”

“Mhm,” Robbie nods, sipping his tea. “It’s gotten a lot easier over time. I don’t even have to think about it anymore; I think I’ve managed to train my magic into following a direction.”

“You don’t have trouble anymore?” Sportacus asks.

Robbie blushes and tries to hide it with his mug. “Well,” he says, “not with my spell casting.”

Sportacus looks confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I– I still have outbursts of accidental magic. And they’re still… big. That hasn’t changed at all.”

“I’ve never seen you do that.”

“You won’t have,” Robbie says. “It only happens when I’m stressed, or frustrated with something, and I only ever get to that point when I’m alone, so…” Robbie shrugs.

“Huh.” Sportacus says.

“I’ve noticed one thing about _your_ magic, though,” Robbie tells him.

“Really?” Sportacus asks, leaning forwards. “What?”

“It’s all Earth-based,” Robbie says simply. “All of the stuff you’re good at… it’s all healing and caring and stuff. Like how you’re bad at the attacking part of Defence Against the Dark Arts but you’re really good at the defensive part. I think that’s why you’re bad at what you’re bad at,” he explains. “Transfiguration, for example. You’re changing the natural order of things; instead of just helping a plant grow, like in Herbology, you’re actually changing one thing into another thing. That’s not instinctive for you or your magic.” Robbie snorts. “You’re a nice person – makes sense that you have nice magic too.”

Sportacus chuckles and ducks his head, the tips of his ears going a bit pink. “You know,” he says, looking back up at Robbie. “I think you’re right.”

Robbie raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Sportacus nods. “I think… Íþró’s the same. We’re very similar people – we have our differences of course – but we have similar personalities. _And_ , we’re _both_ good at the ‘Earth’ stuff, as you say, and we’re both pretty bad at the other stuff.”

“See,” Robbie says, “proof. I’m a genius.” He puffs out his chest and Sportacus snorts.

“Definitely.”

“How _is_ your brother anyway?” Robbie asks, casually.

Sportacus’s face immediately falls into a frown. “He’s been acting _weird_ this summer.”

Robbie mirrors his frown. “Weird how?”

Sportacus takes a pensive sip of tea. “Quiet,” he says. “And jumpy. Well, no, um – not jumpy, more like… easily, um, wound up? Flustered?” Sportacus struggles to describe it but Robbie knows what he means anyway.

“Huh,” he says, “that’s odd.

“I know, right?”

“Any idea what’s up?” Robbie asks.

Sportacus shakes his head. “Nope. He won’t tell me.”

“Maybe it’s his exam results?” Robbie offers, and Sportacus smiles at him, thoughtful.

“Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

Robbie ends up having to run to Zonko’s. Tea with Sportacus turned out to be much longer – and much more enjoyable – than he’d expected, and now he’s running late. He and Sportacus both jumped upon realising the time and had barely even said ‘bye’ to each other before they were pelting off in opposite directions down Diagon Alley, hurrying to meet their respective brother.

Luckily, Robbie’s brother also seems to have been running late, as they both skid to a halt outside Zonko’s at the same time.

“Hey bro,” Glanni greets, panting.

“hey bro,” Robbie replies, also panting. “Have fun?” he asks, as innocently as he can manage.

“Might have,” Glanni says slowly, incredibly suspicious. And then it dawns on him. “You told him where I was on purpose, didn’t you?”

Robbie shrugs. “Might have,” he says, grinning.

Glanni rolls his eyes but he doesn’t say anything else – he doesn’t have the time. The two of them fly around Zonko’s, holding themselves back from squealing and scheming over every single item in the store like they usually would. That doesn’t stop them from filling their baskets though, even if it is a bit of a speed run through the shop.

They manage to stock up on everything they need for a year at Hogwarts and then some, but they have to scoot through the tills and absolutely _book it_ to Eeylops’s. Their parents are already waiting for them outside the shop, but luckily only their mama is looking at her watch. If Pabbi was looking at his too they’d be _very_ late.

“Sorry!” they both shout.

“It’s fine,” Pabbi waves them off, “you’re not that late.”

“We don’t have too long though,” Mamma tells them, “come on.”

“I still don’t know where we’re– _oh.”_ Robbie’s breath catches as his Mama turns around and walks straight through the doors of the Magical Menagerie.

“You heard your Mamma,” Pabbi smiles, “come on.” And then he turns and follows her.

Robbie tries to look at Glanni but his brother’s already following them in, shrugging at Robbie and grinning as he passes. Robbie trails behind him, mouth open in shock.

What are they doing here? Well – the answer to that is kind of obvious, but Robbie doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

“What…” he manages to say, but he can’t get any further.

“We thought it was about time you both got pets,” his Mamma says. “Eleven is so young to take care of something when you have to go somewhere new, we thought now was the time.”

“Hang on – I’m two years older!” Glanni squawks.

“That has no bearing on your ability to take care of an animal,” Mamma says, “believe me.”

“You can have one animal each,” Pabbi tells them. “Anything you want as long as you can take it to school. Go on,” he makes little shooing motions. Neither of them need telling twice though, and they both disappear into the shop.

Glanni goes straight to the kittens, of course. He’s always wanted a cat, Robbie’s known that pretty much since he gained sentience. Indeed, there are tears in his brother’s eyes when he looks over all the little furballs squirming about in their pens.

 _“Kittens,”_ Glanni whispers, not even bothering to wipe away the tears slipping down his cheeks.

“That’s right,” Robbie tells him quietly. “And you _get_ _one_.”

“I get one,” Glanni repeats, just in _awe_.

Robbie walks over to the lady behind the counter and takes a deep breath. “Ex– excuse me,” he stutters, “could y– you please let my brother into the k– kitten pen?”

“Sure sugar,” she smiles warmly at him and comes out from behind the counter to go let Glanni in the pen. Glanni, still crying, is swarmed by the little things in seconds; kittens crawling over his legs and up his chest he slides down the wall of the pen to gather them in his arms.

Robbie smiles and leaves his brother to it to look through the rest of the animals on his own. Magical Menagerie has _everything_. Owls, cats an kneazles, puppies, toads, snakes, lizards, nifflers and pygmy puffs, rats, rabbits… even snails. (Which, admittedly, are pretty cute – although the majority that are sold here are also poisonous.)

Robbie has a general wander around, seeing of anything really catches his eye. Like Glanni, he’s always wanted a pet, but unlike Glanni he’s never really known what _kind_. Nothing’s ever stood out to him. He’d like a cat, but he’d also like a dog. He’d also really like a snake. Snakes and dogs aren’t really Hogwarts appropriate animals though, so they’re out. Cats are, but he’d still like to look around.

He does have a look in the snake enclosures though, as he passes by. He can’t help himself. They’re literally just sentient scarves; shiny, lovable noodles. There’s a good few kinds here, Robbie thinks the hognoses are especially cute. He’s always liked the idea of having a hognose…

A quiet thump comes from his left and he turns. A baby ball python is bumping its nose against the glass of its tank, sticking its little tongue out at him. A quick look at her tag reveals that she’s a female and that she’s 2 months old and 11 inches long, which is quite small for a snake her age. She’s pale yellow and has little dark brown eyes, and is curled into a little ball squished against the side of the enclosure.

Robbie is immediately in love.

“Hello.”

The snake tilts her head at him, flicking her tongue. She smooshes her nose against the glass.

“I like you,” Robbie tells her. He can’t have her though. Snake’s aren’t on the Hogwarts approved list. Although… the letter never actually says you can’t have a snake as a pet. It says: ‘Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.’ Well, Robbie doesn’t desire any of those things. He desires a snake, this snake. The letter doesn’t say those are the _only_ things a student can bring. Perhaps it’s more of a… suggestion.

Actually, it must be, because Robbie’s seen his fair share of rats and frogs around. Frogs technically aren’t toads, and rats aren’t any of those things – not even close.

Screw it. Robbie’s made his choice. He wants this little angel right here.

He goes to find his parents as confidently as he can, but that quickly crumbles as he finds them stood around the kitten enclosure. Glanni’s still in it and he’s still crying.

“Hay bro,” Robbie says softly.

“Hey bro,” Glanni replies, a shake to his voice. He climbs out of the pen and lifts up possibly the tiniest, scruffiest black kitten Robbie has ever seen and holds her in one hand near Robbie’s face.

“This is Fork.”

“Hi Fork,” Robbie says, not even fazed by the name. He reaches out a finger to scratch lightly down her nose. She sneezes.

“I love her,” Glanni whispers.

“Have you chosen yet, Robin?” Pabbi asks.

Robbie nods, and leads his parents and Glanni – and Fork – over to the snakes. He points to his banana baby and says, “this is Missy.”

Missy licks the glass where his finger points.

“Aww,” Glanni grins, still teary eyed, “look at the little pupper.”

His Mamma and Pabbi share a look. Pabbi in particular looks _very_ amused.

Mamma sighs. “There’s not even a chance of changing your mind, is there?”

“No,” Robbie says. “And I’ve already found loopholes in the letter, I can take her.”

“Yes,” Pabbi chuckles, “your Mamma is very aware of the loopholes in the letter.”

Huh.

“Come on,” his Mamma says, “we’ll go get her out of there, you go look at tanks.”

Robbie smiles at her as she and Pabbi go to the counter and drags Glanni – _still_ crying – and Fork over to the tanks.

 

* * *

 

Missy settles into Robbie’s room _very_ nicely. She curls up in her huge tank in the corner of Robbie’s room and tries to strangle a toilet roll tube, which is just adorable. Whenever she comes out, she curls around his wrist and gives him kisses.

He loves her.

As does Fork, which is funny. He knows that wizarding-bred animals all have a slightly higher intelligence – which to be honest, seems to be lacking in Fork – than non-wizarding-bred ones, but for them to actually like each other is something unexpected. Usually they acknowledge each other’s existence and that’s about it. A quick, ‘you’re magical, I’m magical, cool,’ And then they leave it at that.

Glanni brings Fork into Robbie’s room and she crawls straight off Glanni’s lap, falls off the bed and then goes to yell at Missy’s tank. Missy looks at her.

The next day, Robbie wakes up to find Fork asleep on Missy’s tank, Missy asleep directly underneath her. Glanni freaks the hell out when he wakes up with Fork missing, but he can’t deny that the result is adorable.

Both he and Robbie almost have _heart attacks_ though, when Robbie wakes the morning after to discover that Fork has somehow pushed the lid off of Missy’s tank and both animals have fallen asleep under the table it’s on, Fork asleep on Missy’s coils.

Magical animals indeed.

 

* * *

 

The night before Robbie and Glanni are due to pack for Hogwarts, Robbie excuses himself from dinner to go to the toilet.

What he actually does, is smear half the tub of the Ghost Slime Molly got him on Glanni’s pillow and then go back downstairs, where he finishes his dinner with a smile on his face.

Later that night, when Robbie’s all tucked up in bed, he hears Glanni scream.

 

* * *

 

That scream is _nothing_ compared to the one Glanni lets out the next morning, however, when he opens the letter telling him he’s a Prefect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Glanni's kitten is called Fork. Yes, she is an absolute fucking disaster.
> 
> (i also want it noted that in a fight between molly and glanni, molly would always win. every time. she would kick his ass six ways to sunday and not give a single fuckeroonie.)


	9. 3rd Year, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the beginning of Robbie's third year at Hogwarts. This time, he has Missy to keep him company throughout the day and a Prefect brother, so maybe things won't be so bad? Plus, he's quite excited about his new electives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the long wait! i make no promises, but things should be getting quicker from now on!
> 
> (yes, i used the bowtruckle lesson from order of the phoenix; apologies, i really couldn’t think of anything else! the only thing that wasn’t a huge, incredibly dangerous and/or rare animal was a flobberworm and those things are just _boring_. i wanted an interesting – yet non-dangerous – and relatively calm first lesson for the boyos to ease them in.)

Missy is transported to Hogwarts in a velvet bag.

 _Technically_.

Missy isn’t actually spending the entire journey in the velvet bag, since Robbie feels that that’s quite mean and very unnecessary, seeing as the train cabins are sealed so well. Therefore, the second he’s settled down in his cabin and he’s made sure the doors are properly closed, he lets her out.

She immediately poked her nose out of the bag and starts scenting, but other than the length of the seat Robbie’s on she doesn’t actually go very far, seemingly quite content with curling up in a little ball on Robbie’s lap instead of exploring.

Lazy and cute; a noodle after Robbie’s own heart.

Still a shame though, since Robbie has the cabin to himself this time. Normally he’d share with Molly and Glanni but apparently, Glanni’s not the only one to have received a Prefect’s letter – although hers was definitely a lot more expected than Glanni’s, so they’re both in the Prefect’s cabin at the front of the train having a meeting.

Robbie _still_ hasn’t figured out how that happened. Glanni hadn’t even told him he was putting his name in for it! And when Robbie asked his brother why he’d done it, since Glanni’s idea of a good time was pissing _off_ the Prefects, he’d only reply was “so I can change things, little Robin.”

Robbie kind of understood that, which was good, but that still didn’t answer the question of how the hell he’d managed to actually be _accepted_ for the position. Robbie loved his brother but he spent his days pulling pranks, causing trouble and generally being a little shit. Why the headmaster thought that was perfect Prefect, Robbie will probably never know, but he’s not going to complain. Even though Glanni’s been preening like a particularly glittery and annoying peacock since he got his letter and his shiny new badge, he’s genuinely happy about it and Robbie’s glad for him.

Plus, Íþróttaálfurinn is _also_ a Prefect, so Robbie knows that Glanni’s almost _definitely_ suffering in his Prefect’s meeting right now.

Hehehe.

An hour or so into the ride, someone knocks on the cabin door. Robbie looks up from the window to see Sportacus beaming at him through the glass, a questioning little tilt of his head.

Robbie nods at him and Sportacus opens the door and slips inside. Missy hasn’t even lifted her head at the sound of the door opening, so Robbie doesn’t worry about her trying to ‘escape’, but he does put a hand over her balled-up coils anyway just in case Sportacus doesn’t react… favourably.

When Sportacus has closed the door and turned around, he catches sight of Missy in Robbie’s lap and gasps, hands flying up to his mouth. Robbie jumps, jostling Missy slightly, and Sportacus lowers himself to the seat beside Robbie with wide-eyes.

“Who is _this_ ,” Sportacus asks, voice barely more than a whisper. It’s so full of awe that Robbie rolls his eyes, relaxing back into the seat cushions. He doesn’t know why he worried. Sportacus loves everything, and Robbie’s spent enough time around him by now to know that Sportacus absolutely _adores_ animals.

“This is Missy,” Robbie introduces, stroking a finger along her back. Missy lifts her head up to look at Sportacus and sticks out her tongue, which makes prompts out another little gasp from the Hufflepuff.

 _“Missy,”_ he says reverently.

“Yes,” Robbie replies. He watches Sportacus watch Missy for a few moments, very amused – and slightly weirded out – by how fascinated he seems to be. Sportacus looks like he’s about to cry when she yawns.

“She’s so cute,” Sportacus tells him, and Missy promptly shoves her nose into her coils.

“Isn’t she just?” At least he knows someone’ll appreciate her, bringing a snake to school was risky for more than one reason. Still, Robbie supposes, they can shove it.

“And she’s _yellow_ ,” Sportacus points out, grinning.

Robbie narrows his eyes at that. He knows exactly what Sportacus is implying, but there’s no way he can argue against it. If he had to put Missy in any house, it’d be Hufflepuff. He’s only had her for a week, but his baby is a dumb one, so Ravenclaw is not for her. And, despite being a snake, this particular little noodle doesn’t have a nefarious bone in her body so despite all the Slytherin jokes Glanni’s been making, that’s not the house for her either. She’s also pretty terrified of the odd sock that hangs from the bottom-left post of Robbie’s bed too, so not Gryffindor either. No, Missy’s a happy little baby who likes to sleep, eat and cuddle. She’s a Hufflepuff… and Robbie has put _way_ too much thought into this, _wow_.

“Yes,” Robbie says to Sportacus, “she is,” and leaves it at that.

Sportacus smiles widely at him, far too knowing, but it quickly tapers off into a thoughtful frown. “Did I um… did I see Glanni with a kitten, earlier?” he asks Robbie.

Robbie chuckles and nods. He’s seen the Prefect’s on patrol down the train corridor. Fork’s been sat on Glanni’s shoulder like a little sentinel (or a parrot, but Robbie’s been told by Glanni that he’s not allowed to make those kind of jokes,) as they walk up and down the train and Glanni’s been looking particularly smug about it. He says that cats – especially black ones – are very Slytherin, since they’re sly, mischievous rebels who take orders from no one. This particular cat never really looks anything outside of _goofy_ though, to be honest.

“That’s Fork,” Robbie tells him.

“…Fork?” Sportacus repeats.

“Yes. Glanni picked it.” Robbie still has no idea why. “Not the, uh, _best_ name to be honest; it turns out she’s actually afraid of them.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” Robbie nods. He’s honestly not joking. “If you put a fork near her she’ll yell at it and then run away.”

“That’s… cute?”

“Yes,” Robbie agrees, “but really weird.”

Missy takes that moment to move from Robbie’s lap up around his neck, hanging around it like a tiny scarf before sticking her nose under the collar of his robes and going back to sleep.

Sportacus beams at her. Then, he notices the big instrument case laid down on the floor by Robbie’s feet. “Oh!” he exclaims, “you brought your cello with you!” He looks at Robbie excitedly. “Are you joining the band?”

Robbie shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to bring her _– it,”_ he quickly corrects, “with me.” Darn. He hopes Sportacus didn’t pick up on that. “Practice, you know.”

He’s missed playing his cello. He’ll also be bringing his violin and saxophone with him when he comes back from Christmas break, but for now he just wants his Cello. He’s missed her the most. He’s not going to try and bring the piano; it’s just too big, (and it’s his dad’s anyway,) but that’s fine. He’ll just use the one at Hogwarts.

“Well that’s a lot better than having to wait for the holidays to go home and play her,” Sportacus says.

“Y– yes.” Huh.

“Oh!” Sport says suddenly, “I forgot – I– I brought pictures to show you! From Iceland!” He reaches into his robes and pulls out a big brown envelope. “We took lots!”

“I can see that.”

“Look,” Sportacus says, pulling out a picture of Íþróttaálfurinn and Sportacus standing outside a little log cabin in the snow, “this is where we stayed…”

 

* * *

 

Missy doesn’t actually end up going back in the bag. She stays wrapped around Robbie’s wrist throughout the carriage journey, and everyone’s arrival into the castle, and throughout the evening feast. The only time she actually uncoils is when Robbie goes to bed that night; she curls up in the tank he’d brought with him – which takes a full half hour to set up, but Robbie doesn’t mind. It’s not like he’ll be sleeping much tonight anyway.

Sure enough, by the time 2am rolls around Robbie hasn’t slept a wink, despite the Bluebell flame, so he takes Missy downstairs for a run– _slither_ around and picks a book. She spends an hour or so exploring but quickly decides that Robbie himself is the best place to be, sliding into the collar of Robbie’s shirt and falling asleep.

It’s really, really cute; just her little head poking out of the neck of his sleep-shirt and resting on his collar-bone. It’s the best first night Robbie’s had at Hogwarts, even though he doesn’t end up falling asleep until almost half five.

 

* * *

 

Timetables are given to students at the first breakfast of each year. Usually, it’s not that exciting – you get handed a piece of parchment, you go to your first lesson, and then you spend a couple of weeks memorising said piece of parchment – but this time the elective courses that the students chose at the end of their Second Year have been added too, and Robbie is curious to see when his first lessons for them will be.

Robbie hadn’t really had to think twice about his options for his Third Year. He hadn’t wanted to drop any classes – not even History of Magic – since although the homework’s a pain, the work itself is easily manage. Two more lessons shouldn’t be too hard, especially if they’re ones he enjoys, or is at least interested in.

To be honest, Robbie would’ve been perfectly happy to take a third one; Glanni has three electives at the moment, and Robbie knows he wants to take alchemy when he’s older, but nothing had really caught his fancy. Alchemy and Apparition are only available to the higher years, (and even then, Alchemy is only taught if there’s enough demand,) Divination just isn’t Robbie’s thing, even if he has the same knack for it that Glanni does, Muggle Studies he can just teach himself, and despite his genius he’s always been awful at any kind of math so Arithmancy is out of the question.

That just leaves Care of Magical Creatures and Study of Ancient Runes, which are Robbie’s choices. He’s always loved animals, and thankfully, they seem to quite like him too, so he hadn’t thought twice about picking Care of Magical Creatures. Study of Ancient Runes is very interesting indeed, and some of the stuff Robbie’s looked at in the past is quite fun. There’s harder stuff in the future for that one, sure, but Robbie’s always enjoyed a challenge. He’s quite pleased with his choices, and luckily, they both seem to have fit quite well into his schedule despite not having dropped anything; he’s one of the only students in his year who hasn’t; a large number of them have dropped History of Magic at least.

Robbie looks through his schedule to see when his new lessons will be. His first Ancient Runes lesson is tomorrow, just after lunch time. Cool, that gives him a day to get back into the swing of things before diving into something new. It’s a mixed house class too, which is a nice change. Reading further on, Robbie finds that he doesn’t have CoMC until Thursday… with Hufflepuff. Robbie immediately looks over to the opposite table and spots Sportacus practically vibrating in his seat, staring at his own timetable with glee. Robbie knows for a _fact_ that Sportacus has also chosen CoMC; even if he hadn’t’ve actually _told_ him, it’s no secret that the Hufflepuff has a soft spot the size of the sun itself for animals.

Either sensing his gaze or simply making the same observation that Robbie had, Sportacus looks up and quickly catches the Ravenclaw’s eye. He bounces in his seat, positively beaming at Robbie. Robbie just rolls his eyes and turns back to his schedule.

Honestly, CoMC is going to be insufferable. At least he has a couple of days before his first lesson.

 

* * *

 

The first day back isn’t too bad. It’s actually kind of nice, in a way. The lessons themselves are quite fun after all; even though they’re pretty easy he still gets to learn and he enjoys practicing magic. By the end of the day though, he’s still very tired. Dealing with teachers and classmates all day is quite draining, and handing in his summer homework with the same deadened feeling of _‘yes, here you are, have the thing I worked hours on that we both know essentially means **nothing** ,’_ to every single lesson is quite frustrating.

Luckily, Robbie has Glanni.

After dinner, he heads straight down to the Slytherin common room to find his brother. Glanni’s in his room, according to the students that are milling around, so Robbie knocks and waits to be let in.

“In!”

Good enough.

Robbie enters to find his brother busy bedazzling the collars of his school shirts, a perfect calm-down activity for Robbie – and one that Glanni happily invites him to join.

Well, less like ‘invite’, and more like ‘press into service’.

They’re able stick the jewels on with magic instead of faffing about with glue or a needle and thread, but it was still fiddly work so Glanni jumps at the chance to have a helper. He wants to do all of his shirts; all of them are brand new this year due to his growth spurt, and Glanni can’t _stand_ having a boring uniform. He always has to have something unique about it, and this year is apparently going to be bedazzled collars.

Robbie isn’t allowed any creative input, which he expected, as Glanni has already drawn up several designs. There are flowers, swirls and filigree, spider-webs and, of course, penises – for ‘special occasions’. Predictably, Glanni was going to be gluing the penis shirt himself.

Robbie is one hundred percent fine with that.

Missy appears from the sleeve of Robbie’s robes the second he sits down on the bed, smelling Fork nearby, and makes her way out of the sleeve and onto the bed to find her. Robbie lets her go happily. They haven’t seen each other since yesterday morning after all, which is new for them.

He picks up the pattern Glanni’s given him to work on – the swirls – and takes out his wand. He can stick the gems down individually himself, and then Glanni will finish the whole thing off with a permanence charm when he’s done.

“Do you want this one in silver or pink?” Robbie asks.

“Pink – I’m gonna make a silver one from that one too.”

“Okay,” Robbie replies and pulls the little tin of pink charms closer.

Fork appears from between the curtains of Glanni’s bed and makes a beeline for Missy, who hisses and immediately twines herself around the kitten’s legs. Unable to move, Fork just plonks herself down right there and then, collapsing onto Missy’s coils.

“Fuckin’ derp,” Glanni huffs fondly.

“Cute derps,” Robbie agrees. They’re adorable.

Robbie starts sticking the gems down onto the shirt collar, occasionally glancing over at the snuggly pair of pets on the floor. He’s got almost a full swirl done when Glanni breaks the companionable silence they’ve settled into with, “So, Halloween–”

“Glanni,” Robbie cuts him of exasperatedly, “we’ve got an entire _month_ before Halloween–”

“So?” His brother interrupts. “That just means more time to plan, more time to make it better. Perfection needs _time_ , little robin.”

Robbie just rolls his eyes and sticks down another gem. “Well it doesn’t matter; you’re a Prefect now, you can’t go around doing huge pranks like that anymore.”

“And why not?” Glanni demands. “Just because I’m a Prefect doesn’t mean I can’t have fun anymore. And hey – how’re they gonna know it was me?”

Robbie scoffs. “They _always_ know it’s you, Glan.”

“And do they have any evidence?” Glanni asks, “ _no_ , because we’re not dumb enough to leave any.”

“I think the glitter is evidence enough,” Robbie says dryly.

“Shush,” Glanni pouts. “Look, just because I’ve got a fancy badge doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop… doing stuff, you know?”

Robbie sighs. “I know, I just… if you cause mischief won’t they take the badge away?”

“Nah,” Glanni shakes his head.

Robbie frowns at him and puts his wand down on his knee. “How are you sure?”

“Well think about it,” Glanni tells him, “they must’ve known I wasn’t gonna be less of a shit just because they made me a Prefect, but they _still_ made me a Prefect. They know what they signed up for.”

Robbie nods. He still worries that if he does something too big then Glanni’ll get in trouble, but he does have a point. Glanni isn’t gonna become a golden kid like Íþróttaálfurinn just because they gave him a shiny badge. _‘If anything,’_ Robbie thinks, _‘giving him access to more things is gonna make him even **worse**.’_

Speaking of Íþró…

“So how was your first Prefect patrol then?” Robbie asks as innocently as he could.

Glanni turns to glare at him. “It was fine. Piece of cake actually, no one really pisses about in the trains. There were a couple of Hufflepuffs who needed a carriage but that was about it.”

“What did Molly think of Fork?”

Glanni snorts. “She thinks she’s a fucking sweetie, which she is, and a dumbass, which she also is.”

Robbie laughs, nose twitching. “And Íþró?”

Glanni groans and throws his head back dramatically. “Don’t,” he moans, “I thought his eyes were gonna pop out of his head when he saw her. He absolutely adores her; thinks the sun shines out her goddamn arse.”

“Is he wrong?” Robbie asks, looking at the tiny, scruffy kitten rolling around on top of Missy’s coils.

“Believe me,” Glanni says dryly, “I’m the one who cleans her litter tray – what comes out that fuzzy little arse of hers is definitely _not_ sunshine.”

Robbie howls with laughter, barely able to breathe through the consecutive snorts it triggers, and Glanni throws a handful of gems at him.

He quickly thinks better of that though, and scrambles to pick them up before Fork tries to eat them.

“Sp– Sport thinks the same about Missy,” Robbie manages to wheeze, “he loves her – I thought he was about to cry at one point.”

“What a pair of saps,” Glanni says, but it doesn’t quite hold the harshness that he was going for.

“I know right,” Robbie agrees. On the floor, Fork flops her tail over Missy’s nose and she sneezes. “Can’t really blame them, though.”

“Not really, no.”

 

* * *

 

Robbie’s first Ancient Runes lesson is _fun_.

He’ll admit to being worried about it, seeing as how it’s primarily reading-focused and he’s a little bit slower than most in that front, but the runes are actually a little bit easier to read than normal letters and even when smushed together in lines resembling ‘sentences’ they aren’t that much more difficult. Plus, the runes they’re being taught at the moment have all been singled out and copied up larger so they’re much easier to see. Indeed, any that Robbie doesn’t forget he just copies out – having a reference nearby is so handy, he can’t even mess it up! – onto a little piece of parchment and writes the definition on the other side, which is never more than a sentence or two, to make flashcards.

He spends the entire lesson doing that and honestly, it’s _so_ easy compared to regular stuff, he loves it. By the end of the lesson, he has a little stack of flashcards that he’s pretty much already memorised, and a list of the runes they’ve learned which have definitions and translations next to the, and uses and any other bits of information written in nice, simple bullet points underneath. It’s so simple and organised; it’s beautiful.

His good mood lasts him all the way through ‘til the end of the day, and he practically skips into the library, smiling.

Sportacus is already there, and he beams when he looks up and sees Robbie in so happy. “Good day?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Ancient Runes,” Robbie says instead, “is _amazing_.”

Sportacus’s other eyebrow joins the first. “Um, good for you?” He offers, a little confused.

“I can _read_ it, and I can _write_ it!” Robbie exclaims, throwing his hands in the air excitedly, “It’s so easy! I mean, of course, it’ll probably get harder later but right now it’s a _breeze_.”

Sportacus grins at him, amused by Robbie’s excitement. “I should hope it does,” he says, “things that are too easy get boring after a while.”

Robbie nods frantically, hands starting to flap a little. “I’ve looked at some of the stuff for this year and it seems to get a bit harder towards the end, and next ears stuff – definitely a little harder and even more interesting too, but that’s not the best bit!” He paces around the table, hands fluttering wildly as he gestures around himself. He’s far too excited to stop them, and Missy is safely curled around his neck under the collar of his robes so he doesn’t have to worry about her. “Finally,” he breathes, “ _finally_ ; homework that won’t be complete _shit_ when I turn it in – I might actually get _decent_ grades for this!”

“You should do,” Sportacus nods, “I have a friend in the year above who takes it, and she says it’s just translations for the first year. And they only need a few words each. And any essays are just um, finding why runes mean what they mean.”

Robbie stops moving suddenly and returns his hands slowly to his sides. They don’t talk about what _Robbie_ does, homework-wise, that’s not a thing that they do here. This is about Sportacus, and he usually avoids bringing it up. He knows Robbie doesn’t like talking about it.

Sportacus seems to know that he’s overstepped here and ducks his head, blushing. Robbie feels a bit guilty at the sight. He didn’t even really bring it up, _Robbie_ did – he was just agreeing. He cursed himself for mentioning it, wondering if he should say something to break the uncomfortable atmosphere that’s settled in the room.

Luckily, Missy choses that moment to pop her head out of Robbie’s robes and Sportacus almost chokes on his own sharp inhale, breaking the tension himself.

Robbie rolls his eyes and holds up an arm as Missy makes her way out of his robes and slithers down it like a branch onto the table. Sportacus watches her like a hawk as Robbie starts unpacking his things.

“Can– can I touch her?” Sportacus asks cautiously. “I mean! Pet her,” he hurriedly clarifies, “not like, just poke her. Would she like that? Is that okay?”

Robbie hides his smirk at Sportacus tripping over himself to reassure Robbie that he’s not just going to straight up poke his snake. What a dork.

“Sure,” he reaches over to give her a little scratch on the head. “She likes strokes and head scratches.”

Sportacus carefully moves closer, like he’s afraid of spooking her, and Robbie keeps back a snort. Missy is the most placid snake he’s ever met in his life, probably due to her being magical. Indeed, she’s looking at Sportacus’s ridiculously placid approach like she can’t fathom why he’s doing so.

Robbie’s waiting for a little question-mark to appear over her head.

“Hello,” Sportacus says quietly, “aren’t you cute.”

 _Wow_.

“Do you mind if I pet you?”

Robbie doesn’t even know what is happening right now. On one hand, the politeness Sportacus is extending to Missy is incredible and Robbie is actually quite pleased by it, but on the other hand, what the heck kind of consent is he waiting for?

Missy herself has no idea what’s happening either by the looks of it, just tilts her head at Sportacus in confusion.

Sportacus stretches his hand out for her to scent. Missy flicks her tongue out at it and them promptly squishes her nose against his finger. Robbie claps a palm over his face and sighs.

“Oh!” Sportacus jumps, but tries his best to keep his hand steady. “Oh, um, okay. I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Oh my god,” Robbie mutters.

The Hufflepuff strokes one finger carefully along Missy’s head and down her body, smiling, then brings it back up for a repeat.

 _‘At least he knows not to rub her scales backwards,’_ Robbie thinks, grateful.

Sportacus scritches his finger down Missy’s back and she sits there quite happily whilst he does so, enjoying the attention. Robbie rolls his eyes at the two and starts setting things up for today’s lesson, though he has a distinct feeling that they won’t be getting much work done.

 

* * *

 

On the Wednesday, Robbie takes his cello to the music room. His Charms professor – and the professor in charge of Music – meets him there in order to set up his new locker. It’s one of the ones furthest to the right, and it’s quite a large one.

The professor takes him through the correct wand movement, a little circular flick, and tells him to preform it in the direction of the locker whilst speaking his chosen password, which is, as the professor is amused to find out, _‘Glanni sucks’_. His cello fits snugly inside, and to Robbie’s delight there’s even a little shelf at the top that’s big enough for his sheet music folder and collapsible stand.

The professor tells him that the locker automatically locks upon closing, and that all he has to do to open it is to repeat the wand movement and password again.

Simple.

Robbie does so, takes his cello back out and thanks the professor very much.

“It’s no trouble, my boy,” he tells Robbie, smiling warmly. “Although I must say, it’s a pity I wasn’t aware that you were a musician sooner, I would have recommended getting you a locker set up in your First Year.”

Robbie feels his cheeks heat. “Th– thank you sir. I didn’t know about the m– music room before half-way through last year. I would’ve come sooner if I had.”

The professor shakes his head. “Well, at least it’s one now. Better late than never!” He chuckles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, miss Brianna over there has been asking for some tuning practice,” he nods to a very ginger Gryffindor girl over by the stage. She has nice brown eyes and _very_ nice shiny blue electric guitar.

“O– of course, sir,” Robbie nods, “Thank you.”

The professor smiles at him again and heads off over to the Gryffindor, so Robbie wanders over to a corner and starts setting up. He might as well, while he’s here. Still, he doesn’t have too much time, he has to feed Missy tonight and he wants to get a head start on the reading for tomorrows CoMC lesson. He’s already owled the professor to see what they’ll be working on first so he’ll be prepared.

He can’t be bothered to set up the sheet music stand too so he figures he’ll just play some stuff from memory. It’ll be some form of practice, at least. He hadn’t had as much time as he would’ve liked to play during the summer holidays, what with spending a large portion of his time in Iceland out and about.

He pays through one rendition of Gustav Holst’s _Mars_ , a few bits and pieces of Beethoven, and a couple of his favourite Icelandic rock songs before he figures that he’s spent enough time down in the music room and packs away again. The professor watches him, but he figures that he just wants to make sure that Robbie doesn't have trouble with his locker.

 

* * *

 

Thursday morning sees Robbie shuffling outside and out onto the grounds of Hogwarts, following a small troop of students down to the edge of the forbidden forest, near the Groundskeeper’s hut, for his first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Despite the early-ish hour, he’s quite excited – he can’t wait to learn about Bowtruckles.

He pulls his scarf a little closer as he makes his way down to the forest. There’s about thirty or so other students besides him – CoMC is always a popular elective – and all are either Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, but Robbie notices that there are a good few more of the latter.

One particular Hufflepuff is weaving through the group to get closer to him and Robbie sighs under his breath. His short reprieve is over.

“Hi Robbie!” Sportacus greets excitedly, jogging beside him. He looks positively gleeful – it’s disgusting. “Are you excited to see what we are going to be learning about?”

“I already know,” Robbie shrugs, trying to dampen the other boy’s spirits just a little. The bouncing is making Robbie feel nauseous. Instead, Sportacus gives a small gasp and his grin gets even wider.

“You _do?”_ Sportacus gasps, delighted, “what is it?”

“Those,” Robbie points at the tree-stump near the forests edge that the students are approaching. The stump has lots of little twigs piled atop it. Sportacus looks confused for all of two seconds before he realises that the twigs are _moving_.

“Welcome, class,” the professor greets. She’s stood next to the stump, a wooden box at her feet. “For your first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, we will be looking at these,” she points to the stick-like creatures on the stump. “Can anybody tell me what they are?”

“Those are Bowtruckles, Miss,” a Hufflepuff girl pipes up.

“Indeed,” the teacher nods, “three points for Hufflepuff. Now, these little creatures are quite shy and generally don’t cause a lot of trouble, however they can be aggressive if they believe that they are being threatened; they are _very_ territorial. Can anybody tell me where they live, and why that makes their territorialism a problem?”

A small murmur ripples throughout the students before a Hufflepuff puts his hand up. “Don’t they live in trees?” he asked, “Like, the ones that wandmakers get wood from to make wands, so because loads of wandmakers want the wood from their trees they get can get disturbed a lot.”

“Very good, three more points,” the professor awards. “This leads to annoyance on both the Bowtruckles and the wandmakers sides. Due to their excellent camouflage, they can be hard to see and therefore often have the element of surprise, so it is always best to exercise caution when approaching a wand-wood tree whether you intended to take wood or not,” she warns the group, “especially because these creatures tend to go for the eyes as their first point of attack.”

Several of the surrounding students gulp, and Robbie sees a couple rub at their eyes.

“Woodlice,” she tells them, “are one of a Bowtruckle’s favourite foods.” She produces a medium sized bag from her pocket. “I have some here. They can be used to appease the Bowtruckles and calm them. Now, I want all of you to put on a pair of protective leather gloves and pick a Bowtruckle, using the woodlice to entice them,” she instructs, “there should be enough Bowtruckles for you to work in pairs, but some of you might have to work in threes.”

Robbie freezes. _‘Oh god no,’_ he thinks, _‘no, no, no, not group work.’_ He _hates_ group work, he hates having to work with people. Can’t they just observe the ones on the table and sketch them from there? Why must he have to suffer through dealing with someone else for an hour instead? Too caught up in his internal panic, he doesn’t see Sportacus look up at him.

“You will sketch them,” she continues, “and label their body parts with help from your textbooks. You have the rest of the lesson to complete this, now go find your partners and get a pair of gloves and some woodlice from me.”

“Do you want to pair with me?” he asks, eyes wide.

Robbie almost says no, he doesn’t want to work with anyone, but stops himself before he can. Honestly, Sportacus is literally the best option here. Robbie already knows he can stand his presence for the time required, and he’ll work _very_ hard at the assigned task.

“Yes, please,” Robbie blurts gratefully. Sportacus beams, and grabs Robbie’s wrist so they can get gloves and a Bowtruckle while the others are still picking partners. Robbie holds back from just snatching his arm back, if he slows this down at all they might end up having to work in a _three_ , and there’s no one here that Robbie would even _consider_ working with.

The two of them get given some gloves and some woodlice, which Robbie holds his hand out for when Sportacus looks a little uncomfortable. He knows that the Hufflepuff isn’t squeamish, but he can’t stand the thought of other living things being harmed – even woodlice – and Robbie knows that feeding them to the Bowtruckles like treats isn’t really something he’ll want to do. Robbie holds out the lice, which is quite difficult because they’re still alive and therefore _wriggling_ , but between the lice and the natural affinity with animals that the two possess, its doesn’t take them long at all to coax their chosen Bowtruckle onto Sportacus’s glove. In fact, it’s actually a bit of a hassle trying not to have multiple ones climbing on; apparently the Bowtruckles are social creatures and like to stick together – either that, or they just really, really like Sportacus and Robbie. Whichever one it is, the professor looks quite amused.

The two of them go to sit by the trees and quickly set up a plan: they’ll draw the Bowtruckle first, tanking it in turns, and then work together to label the drawings. Sportacus offers to let Robbie draw first, which Robbie is pleased about. He knows it won’t take long for him, and he’d rather get his done so sportacus can spend as long as he needs doing his – he’s not sure how well the Hufflepuff can draw, so it might take him a while.

Robbie’s sketch doesn’t take long at all, just under fifteen minutes to get all the details down. In all honestly he could have down it a bit quicker than that, but he enjoys drawing and it’s been a while since he had a live subject so he’d gotten a little ‘into it’. Sportacus doesn’t seem to mind. He seems quite happy entertaining the Bowtruckle, which seems to be quite amused.

“Done,” Robbie announces.

Sportacus glances up in surprise. “Already?”

Robbie nods at him. “Your turn.”

“Can I see yours first?” Sportacus asks, shuffling closer on his butt.

Robbie sighs but hands him his parchment.

“Wow Robbie, this is really good!” Sportacus exclaims, looking over the parchment in awe. “I wish I could draw like that.

“Well, you know…” Robbie shifts uncomfortably, “practice.” He whips the drawing back out of Sportacus’s view and shoves a second piece of parchment over. “So get going. Practice makes perfect.”

Sportacus nods and carefully transfers the Bowtruckle over to Robbie’s glove. It’s quite a cute little thing, Robbie muses, with its little thin body and long limbs. It reminds him of a stick insect. He’d held stick insects at the zoo once, and a couple of times in the garden with his Dad. They’re quite sweet little things. He feeds it woodlice for almost half an hour, the creature happy enough that it allows Robbie to scratch lightly down its back with a fingernail.

Thank goodness he hadn’t brought Missy with him; she wouldn’t’ve eaten them or anything, but they were small and interesting and Missy had a habit of smushing her nose into anything new and Robbie doesn’t think they’d appreciate that.

After that half an hour Sportacus ends up with something that looks like a weirdly detailed stick figure, which, alright, these creatures _are_ kind of _literal_ _sticks_ , but Sportacus’s drawing looks like something a five-year-old would produce. He looks stupidly proud of it though.

Normally Robbie would say something, offer corrections at least, but the Bowtruckle also looks weirdly pleased with it, so Robbie keeps his mouth shut and helps Sportacus label it.

 

* * *

 

A couple of weeks into the first term, Sportacus drags Robbie to a Hufflepuff Quidditch practice session.

He’s been begging Robbie to go to one since last year, after he discovered that Robbie apparently likes Quidditch. Robbie can’t find it in himself to tell Sportacus that he actually doesn’t really care about Quidditch at all, it’s just Glanni kidnapping him, because the only thing worse than blindingly happy Sportacus is sad Sportacus. Instead, he puts it off until he just can’t anymore.

Sportacus is very determined and stubborn, and he doesn’t give up on things – especially if he thinks it’ll bring joy to people. If it wasn’t such an annoying thorn in Robbie’s side he could admire it.

Eventually even Robbie breaks down and begrudgingly agrees to go with him to one. He doesn’t really see the point, since he doesn’t play. He’ll just be spectating. He can’t really do any work either probably, since he’ll be there to watch Sportacus. He’ll just have to suffer through.

Robbie agrees to meet him at the Quidditch pitch after lessons on Wednesday – he’d point blank refused to go outside on a Saturday – and when he shows up the team seems to pretty much already be there. Sportacus sees him approach and rushes over, abandoning the teammates he was speaking with. Robbie sees them just shake their heads at him and chuckle.

“Robbie!” Sportacus shouts, bouncing on his heels, “you came!”

“I said I would, you dolt.”

“I know, I know – I’m still glad!”

“Right…” Robbie shuffles his feet. He sneakily reaches for the tangle inside his sleeve. “So um– what– where do I go?”

“Oh!” Sportacus jumps, quickly turning and pointing. “Just over here, we’ve got benches for people to sit and watch.”

A small group of wooden benches has been set up near the entrance to the Hufflepuff team Quarters. There’s a little table with some food and drink to the side too.

“Do you want a cookie?” Sportacus asks, leading him over.

“ _Yes_ ,” Robbie blurts, reaching for one and stuffing half of it in his mouth immediately. Stupid question.

Sportacus snickers. “I thought so. Did you bring something to do?”

Robbie pauses, confused. He quickly swallows his cookie. “Um, uh, did you want me to?” He stutters, taken aback.

“Oh no, no don’t worry, you didn’t have to,” Sportacus hurries to say, “I just meant that it’s not a _proper_ match, so there’s going to be some boring bits too.”

Huh.

“I um, I have an essay?” Robbie ventures. He’d brought his bag so he could have snacks and he has some homework in it that he’d gotten yesterday.

Sportacus smiles at him. “Cool! There you go.” He smiles at Robbie and rocks a little on his heels. “I hope you have fun – I know practice isn’t as good as the real thing but…” he shrugs and smiles again. “Still, I hope you have fun anyway.”

“Um, thanks,” Robbie manages, and sportacus gives one last little bounce before running back to his team. Seriously – does that kid have springs in his shoes or what?

He goes and sits down on one of the little benches, near the front. There’s no one else there to watch, which makes Robbie a little nervous, even though it’s not that much of a surprise really; it’s a little chilly. He’s bundled up nice and warm in his coat and the scarf he’d gotten for Christmas last year, and he’s got his mittens too. Missy’s back in her tank in his room because it’s far too cold for her, so he feels a little weird without her weight on his neck or his wrist.

He leans down to take his essay and quill out of his bag, and when he looks up, Sportacus is doing handstands on the pitch. Everyone else is doing normal stretches, but Sportacus is walking around on his hands and no one seems to be batting an eyelid.

This does not surprise Robbie at all. He watches in horrified awe as Sportacus proceeds to do some more hand-walking, then some arm stretches and jumping-jacks, skipping with a rope, some _front-flips_ and _back-flips_ , and then the _splits_.

Some of the surrounding Hufflepuffs have a bit of a giggle, and some roll their eyes, but no-one seems to view this as anything particularly out of the ordinary.

Eventually the Captain calls his team over and there seems to be a bit of a huddle, so Robbie gets to work. After ten or so minuets, they break apart and start running through some drills; passing Quaffles and hitting Bludgers and the like, and flying around.

Robbie looks up occasionally from his work to see if he can catch sight of Sport. He’s very fast for someone so young, and he seems to have good control over his broom. He seems a bit overeager – surprise, surprise – but he’s doing good.

Well, he _thinks_ so, anyway.

If Sportacus catches him watching, he’ll do a little loop-de-loop or a barrel roll or something, which Robbie always rolls his eyes at. _‘Show-off,’_ he thinks, biting back a smile.

The actual practice is quite entertaining. Some of the other players, like the beaters and the chasers, do more complex manoeuvres that Robbie thinks are quite cool. A lot of practice has gone into getting them right, and the physics are pretty interesting to work out – which Robbie does. Sportacus does a few cool moves of his own – _show. off_. – like rolling dives to catch things. They work about fifty percent of the time, and Robbie can see the Captain shaking his head. Why she doesn’t pull Sportacus up on it though is a mystery to Robbie.

 _‘It **is** practice,’_ he supposes, _‘though it’s kind of overdoing it, he won’t get better at it if he doesn’t practice.’_

Including the little huddle at the beginning and the drills, practice lasts about an hour and a half. They finish with a little talk or something, with the Captain addressing her team. Sportacus looks tired, but Robbie can see him still practically vibrating from where he is. The Captain is barely done with her speech before Sportacus is booking it back across the pitch to Robbie.

“What did you think?” he asks breathlessly, bouncing around Robbie like an over-excited puppy. Robbie wouldn’t even have the energy to _stand_ after all that, never mind bounce.

“Very over the top,” Robbie tells him, holding back his smirk. Sportacus blushes and ducks his head, but Robbie can see him grinning. “But,” he says, “you pulled it off, I think. I really don’t know much about Quidditch,” he shrugs.

“Thank you,” Sportacus beams.

 _Ugh_.

“Well if you’re all done, I’m going back inside,” Robbie tells him. “It’s cold.”

Sportacus nods understandingly. “Okay Robbie, thank you for coming. I hope you had a good time.”

Robbie toes the grass under his feet. “I did,” he admits quietly. It had been very interesting to watch the players play, and amusing to see Sportacus make a fool of himself. Plus, he _had_ gotten some work done.

“I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, Robbie!” Sportacus said happily, waving as he went back to join his teammates again.

Robbie just shook his head and started the walk back to the castle, resolutely ignoring the fact that he was smiling.

 

* * *

 

Like last year, Robbie meets Glanni in his room to get ready before they head down to the Halloween Feast.

He helps style Robbie’s hair into a little pomp and does his makeup for him, like last year. This year Robbie has a little silver glitter on his eyelids, as well as his eyeliner. The glitter is fine and very carefully applied, as Robbie isn’t usually a fan of glitter. He likes the look of it very much, but having it on him is usually a very unpleasant feeling. Glanni’s excellent with makeup though and he makes sure that Robbie can’t feel it at all. It looks very nice, and Robbie admires himself in the mirror as Glanni puts his boots on. He’s thought about wearing his hair like this more often, but it just takes too much effort. Maybe when he’s older and doesn’t have school…

Glanni himself is wearing a similar outfit to last year, though with the addition of a green, (fake) diamond pinned cravat in place of a tie and a stunning pair of silver earrings, the one on his left ear connected to an ear cuff with a thin, sparkling silver chain. He has a cape on again, but this one has no spider-webs, instead it shimmers green as Glanni moves, with a high. Robbie swears it’s trailing green glitter. _‘Very Slytherin,’_ Robbie notes, the theme only enhanced by his makeup. Glitter emerald green eyeliner in a long, sharp wing and a light silver highlight. His lips are painted a lovely matte black, and when they part Robbie can see his fangs.

Fork sits on his shoulder, doing her best to complete the look. She’s barely grown in the last month, still a scraggly little teacup-sized animal – a far cry from the traditional sleek, black cat of All Hallows Eve – but she sits on Glanni’s shoulder like a true Familiar, his general vampiric look making her look less like a ragamuffin and more like a queen.

Not completely like a queen though, Glanni’s powers only extend so far, and Fork still looks a little doofy sat up there. Robbie doesn’t comment on that however, just reaches up to scratch under her chin and then follows Glanni down to the Great Hall for the feast.

 

* * *

 

The Headmaster’s Halloween speech passes without incident and the food appears soon after, all thoughts of schemes fall out of Robbie’s head for a moment as he piles Halloween themed food onto his plate.

Nothing noteworthy happens as Robbie makes his way through the main course, clearing his plate in record time. He sits patiently when he’s done, picking at seconds as he waits for something to happen. Glanni hasn’t actually told him the plan for this year, any of it, so Robbie’s as much in the dark as everyone else. He busies himself with watching Íþróttaálfurinn over on the Gryffindor table, still in the process of picking up his jaw from where it dropped to the floor when Glanni walked into the hall a full twenty minutes earlier. Robbie snickers to himself and reaches into his sleeve to stroke a finger over Missy’s coils. Honestly, he was so obvious it was almost painful; ‘sneaking’ practically every ten seconds to look over at the Slytherin table and find Glanni.

What a _sweetie_.

The deserts suddenly start appearing across the tables and Robbie jumps. He feels a little unsettled as he reaches for his favourite spider-strewn jelly, wondering when the heck Glanni’s thing is going to start.

_‘Maybe he decided not to do **anything** this year.’_

Robbie frowns. Glanni had been confident about the security of his Prefect status earlier in the month but Halloween is a big thing, maybe Glanni didn’t want to risk it…

No sooner has he thought this than the huge, towering cakes and sundaes on the teacher’s table lift themselves into the air and promptly drop onto the teachers’ heads, causing all hell to break loose.


End file.
